I Belong to You
by dontleaveportland
Summary: At twenty-six years old, Stiles was graciously employed and housed by his father, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, CA, while he remained separated from his husband of almost eight years: Derek Hale. Or that time things were complicated between Derek and Stiles, and Teacher!Jackson swooped in.
1. Through

Standing in front of the microwave on the counter in his father's home, Stiles Hale grimaced as he took a sip of cold lumpy coffee from his mug.

Stiles stared at the digital clock on the machine, setting the mug inside to be warmed for a minute. The clock read 6:37PM.

"Christ," Stiles whispered, wondering where the day had gone.

At twenty-six years old, Stiles was graciously employed and housed by his father, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, CA, while he remained separated from his husband of almost eight years: Derek Hale.

At the thought of Derek, Stiles stared down at the wedding band still on his hand, twisting it while he waited for his coffee to warm. He was pulled out of his thoughts when both the microwave beeped at the end of the minute and his father entered the kitchen.

"Rough day, son?" his father asked.

"You already know, Pops," Stiles said.

"Hmm," his father said, reaching into a cupboard for another coffee mug, "What are you serving tonight?"

"I have cold sludge and warm sludge, what's your preference?" Stiles asked, holding up the coffee pot still filled with a fourth of that mornings coffee.

"You spoil me, son," his father said, reaching behind Stiles to open the microwave door and steal the warm mug.

"Hey!" Stiles said, forming a pout with his mouth, "I worked hard for that."

"Respect your elders," his father said, taking a sip before grimacing, "Maybe we need a Keurig."

"Or a decent coffee press, if I could trust _somebody_ not to break it in the morning," Stiles said.

"Speaking of him," his father said, resting against the counter to face Stiles, "Where is Scotty?"

"I'm sure they're on their way, Pops," Stiles said, sighing as he turned to face the pile of dishes in the sink.

"They're late, Stiles," his father said.

"We haven't gotten a call, and I'm trying to give him some space," Stiles said, "If I set him up to be a bad father, he will be."

"I suppose we _would_ know by now if he hadn't picked Scotty up from school," his father said, nodding.

"Still, Stiles, you've been separated for almost six months, when do you start to consider divorce?" his father asked.

"Dad, can we not do this right now?" Stiles asked.

"I saw his car parked outside the motel again, Stiles," his father said, sighing.

Stiles tensed against the counter.

"Maybe he's staying there," Stiles said.

"You know damn well that Isaac wouldn't be calling you ever day to bitch about him, if that sorry excuse for an alpha weren't staying at the Hale house," his father said, crossing his arms in front of his torso, "He's not staying at the motel for survival, Stiles."

"We're separated, dad," Stiles said, shrugging his shoulders and still facing the window overlooking the driveway, "He can do what he wants."

"But he shouldn't," his father said.

"Fuck, dad," Stiles said, turning around to face his father, "I know that. God damn it, don't you think I know that?!"

Stiles felt his face heat with anger.

"Okay," his father said, raising his hands in a placating manner, "Okay, I just wanted to be sure. You say so little about it these days, I'm not sure if I'm sharing a house with you anymore – the only time I see you express emotion is with Scotty, and that's not everything you're feeling, son. I miss you, and I just wish you'd let me help you."

"You _are_ helping me, Pops," Stiles said, raising a hand to rub at his temples, "And I can't thank you enough for how much you're doing for me and Scotty, but Scotty needs something normal right now. He's six years old. An angry or sad daddy is not normal, and I've already broken up our family."

"Stiles," his father said, putting a hand on the back of Stiles's neck, "You did _not_ break up your family. You stood up for yourself when you saw something was wrong, and that's the kind of behavior Scotty needs to see."

"It's just hard, dad," Stiles said, "And a divorce would be even more difficult. I'm still confused about my feelings for Derek, and Talia already goes out of her way to make my days miserable."

"Who gives a fuck about Talia?" his father asked, "She's an entitled bully, and she refuses to accept the part her son has played in your relationship. Stiles, I can't help you by giving you advice on what to do – you're not going to listen to me, but I can listen to you. And maybe you can understand what's best for you, or what your next step is, by talking to me."

"Well, we're not doing it now," Stiles said, looking outside the window again, "They just pulled up. We're not talking about this while little wolf ears are listening, so put your best grandpa smile on."

"Smiling for Scotty is not a chore," his father said, leaning into Stiles's space to peer out the window, too.

Both men chuckled as they watched a young boy with a small frame and a huge head struggle to exit the black Chevrolet Camaro now parked in the driveway.

"You've gotta undo the seatbelt, Scotty," Stiles shouted, knowing his son would hear him.

"Oh, yeah," Scott said, thick dark locks nodding as he turned back inside the car.

Stiles thought Scott looked so much like Derek Hale that it hurt somedays. It was obvious whose genes had taken in the surrogacy – neither Derek nor Stiles had sought out the actual paternity results, though they hadn't really needed to. Where Derek was a thick frame of muscle with broad shoulders and tanned skin with dark silky hair, Stiles was a smaller frame of lean lines and dark freckles contrasting against his pale skin. Scotty was all Hale, through and through.

"Daddy!" Scott yelled, tripping on the frame of the kitchen door and stumbling into Stiles.

Except for his personality and quirks, maybe. He might be a Stilinski where those matters counted.

"Hey, Scotty!" Stiles said, smiling widely as he picked his son up for a hug, "How was your day, huh?"

"Awesome!" Scott yelled, "Mr. Jack played with me after school – wolves and lizards!"

"That's super exciting," Stiles said, still smiling and nodding his head, "Was Mr. Jack the wolf today?"

"Don't be silly, daddy," Scott said, scowling back at Stiles, "I'm the wolf, see?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot after we gave you that bath last week," Stiles said, laughing at the small fur sprouting on Scott's face and his son's attempt to growl, "Do you have a lot of homework, Scotty?"

"Nope," Scott said, shaking his head back and forth dramatically, almost falling out of Stiles's arms.

"Hmm…" Stiles said, reaching around to the book bag attached to Scott's back, "This feels awful heavy for no homework, you aren't keeping your hunts in there are you? Is this full of Bambis?"

"Dad," Scott said, rolling his eyes, "Its got my trucks in there, remember? You helped me pack them."

"Oh, yeah," Stiles said, smiling at the unsaid 'duh' and the young sarcasm already gleaming through his son, "Well, why don't you see if Grandpa will help you unpack them before bed, huh, pal?"

"Okay, come on, Gramps," Scott said, hurrying down and out of Stiles's arms, already tugging on his grandfather's leg, "Oh, wait–"

Scott turned around to race toward Derek, slouched in the corner silently observing the room.

"Bye, Papa," Scott said, clinging to Derek's neck before jumping back down to the floor, "Grandpa, if we hurry, I'll have time to help you unpack your gun."

"You got a lizard to shoot or something, Scotty?" the Sheriff asked, following Scott out of the kitchen.

Stiles finally turned to greet Derek. He was wearing the gray sweat pants that Stiles loved on him. They made him look so soft, like a walking Sunday morning.

"Hey," Derek said, nodding his head at Stiles.

"Hey," Stiles said, leaning against the kitchen counter, "So you were late again?"

"Just by a little bit," Derek said, rolling his eyes and huffing, "I got tied up at work, and I knew that Jackson wouldn't mind some extra time with Scotty."

"He doesn't mind," Stiles said, shaking his head, "But it's not his job, Derek. He's a teacher, not a babysitter – do you get how rude that is? We're really lucky that Scotty's teacher likes him so much, that he takes such a big interest in helping our son, and that's he's an amazing teacher, too. Parents around the world would kill for a teacher like Jackson, you can't just continue to abuse him like that."

Derek snorted.

"Jackson's interest isn't in our son, Stiles, and you know it," Derek said, eyes briefly flashing red.

"Come on, outside," Stiles said, motioning for Derek to follow him out of the kitchen, "Little ears, remember?"

Stiles sat on the small staircase leading to the sidewalk, looking up at the dark cloudy sky above while waiting for Derek to join him.

"It's not fair to Scotty either," Stiles said once Derek had sat down, "How does he know he's a priority to you if you're always late to things – especially the Epic Derek and Scotty Days of Awesome Exploration that he babbles on about all week."

"Hey, me seeing my son only a few days out of the week wasn't my idea," Derek said turning to glare at Stiles, "And if I'm a little late getting there from time to time because of work – so I can help support us, then fuck, I don't know what to tell you."

"Derek, it shouldn't be like this," Stiles said, "It _wasn't_ like this."

Derek remained silent. Stiles reached his hands up to cover his own face, letting the wind that was picking up fill the silence between them.

"Hey," Derek said, leaning into Stiles's neck, "Come on, I'm sorry. I'm just stressed, and I got defensive because I felt like you were attacking me. Don't cry, baby."

Stiles felt the familiar scrape of Derek's scruff move against the back of his neck, light breathes ghosting against the surface of the skin, and thick lips moving in to press against –

"Derek, stop," Stiles said, pushing Derek away, "I told you that we shouldn't be doing that right now. Sex confuses things."

"Yeah, well, sometimes it solves things," Derek said, pulling one of Stiles's hands against the alpha's crotch, "God damn it, Stiles, it's been so long since we were just us. Let's just be us."

The light sound of thunder rolled above them.

"Knock it off," Stiles said, pulling his hand back, "I told you not while we're separated, and not while you're still fucking around with Kate."

"Who told you that?" Derek growled, pulling hard on Stiles's arm, "Was it Jackson? Did he think he'd get a shot at putting his dick in you by spying on me?"

"God, that is just the most flattering compliment you've given me this year. You really are paranoid, you know that?" Stiles asked, placing a hand on Derek's own hand that was starting to unsheathe claws, "Let go of my arm, you're hurting me."

Derek reeled back in shock, like he hadn't realized his control had been slipping. Stiles wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.

"Stiles–" Derek said.

"Save it, Derek," Stiles said, rubbing at his arm, "We need to figure some shit out, and sooner than later. My dad keeps asking me if we're getting divorced, and I can't blame him. Six months of separation isn't a marriage, and neither is you parking outside the fucking Norman Bates motel because I refuse to put out while we're on pause."

Stiles felt a small drop of rain fall onto his arm.

"For me you mean," Derek snorted, offering an ugly smirk to Stiles.

"For anyone," Stiles said staring back at Derek, "And I think you just reminded me why you should go now."

"Stiles–" Derek said.

"I don't have much more to say right now that's productive," Stiles said, still staring at Derek, "And I don't want to look back some day and think that I didn't give us every opportunity to repair our marriage by saying something out of the heat of the moment, so I'm asking you to please leave, Derek. We need a marriage counselor, or a family therapist, or something if we're serious about making us _us_ again."

Derek glared back at Stiles.

"Stiles, I'm not going to waste time and money so some quack can further our issues," Derek said, eyes bleeding red now, "And I'm sure as hell not walking away from this family, so you better get that through your head right now."

Stiles clenched his jaw at the stubbornness of his husband.

"Scott is mine, and you are mine," Derek said, grabbing tightly onto Stiles's chin, "And I'll end anyone that tries to step between us."

The pair turned at the sound of a handgun cocking behind them.

"I think my son asked you to leave, Hale," the Sheriff said from the kitchen door, "And Scotty's waiting to check his closet for lizards with you, Stiles."

Derek dropped his hand from Stiles's face, and puffed his chest out as he stood up from the stairs.

"Make sure Jackson Fucking Whittemore gets my message, Stiles," Derek said, "It's the only warning he'll get."

Stiles remained seated on the steps as he watched Derek walk back to his car, twisting his wedding band on his finger. His father finally joined him as Derek pulled out of the drive. Somewhere far to the right, lightning struck. Dark clouds shifted, telling Stiles that the storm was headed their way.

"You okay, son?" his father asked.

"Not at all, Pops," Stiles said, shaking his head, "And I'm really tired of feeling fucking sorry for myself and all that other bullshit. I've got a son to raise, and that means I need to figure some things out. I feel a storm coming on."

The Sheriff nodded his head.

"But first," Stiles said, standing up, "I've got an imaginary lizard to track down and tie up."

"Leave me some dental floss this time, Stiles," his father said, "Or you know, use your own."

"Sorry, Pops," Stiles said, walking into the house, "Scotty insists that Sheriff floss is way stronger and better for catching lizards, and his face is just too cute to let down."

The Sheriff snorted, and he followed Stiles into the house just as the sporadic drops of rain became a steady downpour. The lull of rushing water and wind colliding with the earth filled the neighborhood.


	2. Young

Stiles watched as Isaac Hale narrowed his eyes at Scott, both young men sitting at the breakfast table in the Stilinski kitchen. Scott had requested a lazy Sunday morning of waffles and cartoon movies first thing that morning, so Stiles had called Isaac in for fun support.

"What kind of kid chooses Tangled over Frozen in this day and age?" Isaac asked Scott, brow raised, "Have you _even_ seen Frozen?"

"Duh, Uncle Isaac," Scott said, beaming back at the beta and lifting his small feet into the air, "But there's a lizard in Tangled!"

"Hmm," Isaac said, nodding his head at Scott's green socks proudly displaying a pattern of crawling lizards, "I should have guessed your choice based on your socks."

Scott smiled up at Isaac while simultaneously attempting to stuff half a strawberry waffle into his mouth.

"Speaking of awesome and magical lizards," Isaac said, raising an eyebrow at Stiles before turning back to Scott, "How is Mr. Jack?"

"So awesome," Scott said, eyes wide and hands lifting into the air, "He showed me his scales last week – he said he never shows anybody his scales, but he showed me because we're buddies."

"Wow," Isaac said, lifting his face to look up at Stiles again, "Mr. Jack must really like you, Scotty."

"Yup," Scott said seriously, nodding as he bit into the waffle again.

Stiles rolled his eyes, but smiled as he moved forward to wash off the syrup now dripping down onto his son's shirt.

"Hey Scotty," Isaac said, still looking at Stiles, "Why don't you go get that new truck you were telling me about last week – you know, the one that holds _everything_?"

"Okay, but you get the movie ready," Scott said, pushing his plate back and hoping down off the chair.

Stiles started to pick up the breakfast plates, moving them toward the sink.

"What does my ugly stepbrother think of Scotty's new fascination with lizards?" Isaac asked.

"Is that a hint that you want to watch Cinderella after Tangled?" Stiles asked, snorting, "He's less than thrilled. Which is why Talia keeps giving Scotty wolf themed gifts. His closet looks like it belongs to two different little boys – one that loves lizards, and another that loves wolves."

"She is ridiculous," Isaac said, chuckling, "I'm sorry that she's been… challenging for you lately."

"Isaac," Stiles said, turning around to rest against the counter, "I pray for challenging. She's been a… Well, I don't have a quarter for Scotty's swear jar, so I can't finish that line of thought."

Isaac nodded his head sympathetically.

"Have you seen him, Isaac?" Stiles asked, sighing.

"No," Isaac said, shaking his head, "We noticed he wasn't coming home almost two weeks ago when his scent started to fade. I'm sorry, Stiles."

"It's not your fault, Isaac," Stiles said, "I just wish he'd let us know when he's going away for a while, it was hard enough explaining to Scotty the first week why Derek never showed up for their regular days."

"He's a piece of shit, Stiles," Isaac said, shaking his head quickly, "You guys don't deserve this, especially when he's out there with–"

"I know who he's with, Isaac. I don't need a reminder," Stiles said, moving to sit down at the table again, "It's just frustrating, because somedays… Somedays he walks in, and it's like it was before. He makes jokes, and he smiles with that annoying but cute smirk, and then he tells me he'll never walk away from us. But then he pulls this kind of shit, and I end up feeling more lost than ever."

"Stiles," Isaac said, leaning forward, "I don't think Derek _doesn't_ love you – I'm pretty sure that he does in his own stupid way. I just think the kind of love that he has for you, it's more obsessive than nurturing. It's not the kind of love that you need in your life, and I think you need to get away while you still can."

"Isaac, you don't marry someone and stay with them for almost eight years because you're _obsessed_ with them," Stiles said, crossing his arms in front of his torso.

"Point A," Isaac said, lifting a finger with the item, "Derek asked you out in high school _after_ you joined the track team. _After_ he saw your ass in those little running shorts. Point B, Derek asked you to marry him _after_ Parrish started sniffing around you close to graduation. He packed you up, moved you across the country to New York, and told you that he wanted to build a family with you – so you'd never leave him."

"I think you're forgetting that _he_ left me, Isaac," Stiles said, shaking his head, "That kind of disproves your whole obsessed theory."

"Meh," Isaac said, shrugging his shoulders, "He may have come up with the original plans, but you always took over their implementation. And where you led, he followed. I don't understand it, but right now, he's following someone else. It won't last, and he probably is already regretting it, but it happened nonetheless, so you need to move on."

Stiles stared down at the wedding band still on his finger.

"Was Kate the reason you left New York?" Isaac asked.

Stiles felt his eyes brim with tears as he weighed Isaac's question carefully. He hadn't even shared the full story with his father.

"No," Stiles whispered, "At least, I don't think so. It would kill me if the woman there and the woman here were one and the same. Because that means it's something more serious, Isaac."

Stiles raised a hand to wipe away the tear falling down his cheek.

"We came home to work things out," Stiles said, "We thought – or _I_ thought, I guess – it would be better with family around us, easier to pick up where things went wrong. But that's what sucks so much, I don't know where things went wrong. One week I just noticed his mood changed, and then he started lying about little things all the time, but I don't know what I did that started it all."

"Stiles," Isaac said, moving up to wrap around him, "You did _nothing_. I know that's hard to believe, and I wasn't even there, but I swear it. It's obvious in the way that you haven't sent him packing already, you care too much about your family to have driven him away."

"Daddy?" Scott asked, walking into the kitchen with his small arms wrapped around an obnoxiously large trunk.

Stiles looked up, taking a deep breath in and mentally cursing Aunt Lydia for that large ass present again.

"Yeah, baby?" Stiles asked.

"What's wrong?" Scott asked, brow furrowed as he walked up to rest a hand on Stiles's thigh, "You smell sad. Do you have a bad hurt?"

"You know what, Scotty," Isaac said, pulling away from Stiles, "I think you're right. Daddy does smell sad, and I think it's up to us to fix it."

"Oh," Scott said, face set in firm concentration, "Okay, how?"

"What if we put the best movie ever on and snuggled the sad out of him from the couch?" Isaac asked, staring down at Scott.

"Yeah!" Scott said, truck already forgotten as it rolled away.

"Okay, you go get on the couch, I've got the patient," Isaac said, lifting Stiles up into the air bridal style.

"You're funny, Uncle Isaac," Scott said, feet pounding as he ran toward the living room.

"I'm feeling very Disney Meg right now, Isaac," Stiles said, looking up at the Beta.

"Sweet, that makes me Hercules," Isaac said, nodding as they crossed into the living room, "Don't tell Rick though, he's got first dibs on you if Derek unexpectedly passes away."

"Isaac!" Stiles yelled, smacking the beta's shoulder, "Stop that, he does not."

"What can I say? My stepbrothers have good taste," Isaac said, setting Stiles down onto the couch, "Here you go, champ, commence the snuggling while I put on the movie."

Scott pounced onto Stiles's lap, scenting him lightly.

"You smell better already, daddy," Scott said, nodding seriously, "It's probably more me and Tangled than Uncle Isaac, right?"

"Hey!" Isaac yelled, standing in front of the television.

"Totally, Scotty. Totally," Stiles whispered, clutching Scott into a tight hug.


	3. Oh

Isaac scowled down at the steaming coffee mug in front of him, weighing whether it was worth the momentary burning to slurp down the drink or not. He still had twenty minutes to make it over to the Stilinski house that was probably only ten minutes away, but his nephew was having difficulty lately deciding on his shoes for the day. Apparently you don't wear the same lizard twice in a row.

_"Clearly advice Lydia gave him,"_ Isaac thought, chuckling.

"Fuck it," Isaac said, lifting the mug up and swallowing the coffee down.

"Isaac," Talia Hale said, entering the kitchen, "Slow down, honey. Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"Gotta pick Scotty up for school, mom," Isaac said, placing the mug down into the sink.

"You know, Isaac," Talia said, sighing, "If Stiles can't handle raising Scott, then maybe he should consider letting us–"

"Knock it off, mom," Isaac said, "Stiles is doing the best god damn job he can right now, and you know it. Scotty is a happy and healthy boy."

"Yes," Talia said, nodding her head sarcastically, "He's just a werewolf that thinks he's a kanima."

"He doesn't think that he's a kanima, he just admires them," Isaac said, "And it's no surprise, if you consider that his kanima teacher, Mr. Jack, is awesome, and he has my worthless brother for a father."

"Isaac, honey," Talia said, shaking her head, "You know that's not fair, Derek is just troubled right now, that's all."

"_Troubled_ is a nice euphemism for it, mom," Isaac said, glaring back at his mother, "But he's got a family. Stop freaking babying him, he's not a child! He's a grown man that needs to act like one – and while we're on the subject, I don't want to hear one more time about you treating Stiles like he was some kind of gum on your shoe."

"Isaac–" Talia said.

"What's that?" Isaac said, lifting a finger to silence his mother while scenting the air, "Do you smell that?"

"Isaac, stop it," Talia said, rolling her eyes.

"It smells like…" Isaac said, turning to face the kitchen door opening, "Garbage!"

Isaac pretended to gag as Derek walked into the kitchen. He rushed to the other side of the room to open the window above the sink.

"Nice to see you, too, little bro," Derek said, glaring back at Isaac.

"Sorry," Isaac said, "I can't hear you over the sound of my nose _literally_ dying."

"Fuck you, too, Isaac," Derek said, "I don't need this right now."

"Whatever, glad you're not dead after being MIA for a month," Isaac said, headed for the door before being slammed up against the fridge by Derek.

"Why," Derek said, red eyes blinking back at Isaac, "Do you smell like Stiles and Scott?"

"I think the better question is why _don't_ you, Derry?" Isaac asked, smirking back at the alpha, "Now if you would please let go of me, I have a little boy to see off to the first grade. I'm working on that Uncle of the Year award."

Derek growled, though Talia pulled him back from Isaac.

"Don't wanna forget this," Isaac said, picking up the new reptile sticker book that fell from his hand when Derek attacked him, "Scotty would be so disappointed."

Isaac smirked again as he heard Derek growl behind him before the kitchen door shut.

* * *

"Come on, Scotty," Isaac said, picking up Scott's book bag hanging from the boy's bedpost, "It's time to go, pick out your shoes for the day already."

Isaac turned to see Scott sitting in front of his open closet, small frame turning to peer at a ridiculous row of shoes that no six year old should own.

"Will you help me, Uncle Isaac?" Scott asked, large head turning to peer back at Isaac.

"Of course, pal," Isaac said, nodding as he stepped in between Scott and the closet, "What pair do you want to wear?"

"I want the lizard ones," Scott said, face earnest, "I want to impress Mr. Jack today."

"Oh, that's nice, and a pretty big word, bud" Isaac said, "Any particular reason you're trying to impress your teacher today?"

"I want to ask him to come home with me for dinner," Scott said, nodding.

"Oh!" Isaac said, stomach twisting in preparation for what was sure to be an awkward conversation, "That's… nice."

"I know!" Scott said, face beaming back at Isaac, "Daddy has been smelling sad a lot, so I thought maybe Mr. Jack could help."

Isaac crouched down to be face level with Scott, waiting for the boy to continue.

"Mr. Jack always makes me feel good, kind of like Daddy and Papa," Scott said, "Or you and grandpa, but he's like a thousand ways more magical than the rest of you guys."

"Really now?" Isaac asked.

"Yeah, 'cause we're like all wolves," Scott said, large head nodding, "Well, except for grandpa. He's a super human. Which is cool, and wolves are cool, too, but sometimes you just need a lizard."

"I see," Isaac said, nodding, "I think your daddy could maybe use a lizard, too, Scotty."

Scott beamed brightly back at Isaac, little body and large head jumping in excitement.

Isaac turned back to the closet, scanning the row of shoes for, "the lizard ones" that Scott had asked for. At least six had lizard prints or patterns designed onto them, while four had several lizard stickers covering up what looked like a pattern that used to be jumping or roaring wolves. Isaac turned back to stare seriously at Scott.

"You're going to eat me if I choose the wrong shoe, aren't you?" Isaac asked.

"You're funny, Uncle Isaac," Scott laughed, smiling up at Isaac.


	4. Holla

Jackson chuckled as he watched Scott Hale stumble into his first grade classroom, tiny shoes lighting up and highlighting the added lizard stickers with each step. Jackson's smile grew in size in response to the beaming smile on Scott's face – that kid was seriously too cute.

_"Suck it, Lydia,"_ Jackson thought, already dreaming of winning the Class-With-Most-Adorable-Kid award in May.

Jackson crouched down to greet Scott at face level.

"Hey, bud," Jackson said, offering his hand up for a fist bump.

"Mr. Jack!" Scott yelled, tiny fist nearly missing Jackson's, "Gramps taught me a new lizard fact this weekend!"

"The Sheriff?" Jackson asked, smiling back at a nodding Scott.

"Yup," Scott said proudly, "He said that sometimes lizards can remove their tails! Like to avoid predictors."

"Ha," Jackson said, nodding, "I think you mean _predators_, like bad guys, right?"

"Yeah," Scott said, raising his hands into claws and attempting a growl.

"I think I have a cousin that can do that," Jackson said, "I'll see if he's available for show and tell sometime soon, okay?"

"Really?!" Scott squeaked, huge eyes staring back at Jackson.

"Sure thing, bud," Jackson said, nodding, "But hey, I have a special favor to ask of you today."

"Yes," Scott said, nodding enthusiastically.

"Ha, hold on there, Scotty," Scott's uncle, Isaac, said, crouching down with the pair, "You might want to find out what the favor is _before_ you agree to it."

"Okay," Scott said, turning back to Jackson, "What do you need help for?"

"We have a new student today," Jackson said, nodding toward a small girl sitting alone while other children shuffled into the room, "Her name is Kira, and I thought of you the moment I met her. Do you want to know why?"

"Yes," Scott said, nodding his head abruptly.

"She's a kitsune, which is kind of like a fox," Jackson said, watching Scott's face closely for a reaction.

"Whoa!" Scott said, mouth staying in an 'O' shape.

"It wasn't that long ago that you were new, too," Jackson said, "And you more than anyone accepted me as a kanima, so I thought maybe you would like to reach out to Kira, too."

"Okay," Scott said, nodding his head again, "Do you think she likes lizards? Because I have extra stickers."

"Why don't you go ask her, Scotty," Isaac said, chuckling as Scott ran off.

"Thanks for the backup, man," Jackson said, standing up to shake hands with Isaac.

"Of course," Isaac said, maintaining the handshake that Jackson tried to finish, "Now I have a favor to ask of you."

Jackson's shoulders tensed in preparation for Isaac's next words, werewolves were not particularly welcoming to his kind. Isaac hadn't seemed unfriendly in past visits, though, and Jackson didn't think Isaac would pull anything in front of the children.

"Okay, how can I help you?" Jackson asked, face set in a firm line.

"Scotty wants to ask you to dinner tonight, at the Stilinski house," Isaac said, staring solemnly back at Jackson.

Jackson felt his heart twist at the young wolf's request, and he fought the smile that wanted to form on his face.

"And you would like me to… _Not_ accept?" Jackson asked.

"Quite the opposite," Isaac said, still staring intently, "I want you to accept, but only if your interest in Scotty truly extends beyond Scotty."

"I'm sorry?" Jackson asked.

"We both know that I can hear your heart beating a mile a minute whenever Scotty enters your classroom in the mornings, and it practically falls the moment you see my face," Isaac said, smirking now, "And I can only imagine what your face looks like if and whenever my idiot stepbrother steps up to the plate. So, if you're really interested in pursuing Stiles, then I want you to say yes. But if this is a one time interest, or just some lust thing, then say no. Stiles gets enough of that from Derek."

"Oh," Jackson said, letting the meaning of Isaac's words sink in, "That's very… Liberal of you?"

"Yeah, well," Isaac said, finally letting go of Jackson's hand to smack the kanima's arm, "You make Scotty smile, and if you can make Stiles smile the same way, you're good in my book. Besides, I totally owe you for the way Scotty babbles on about lizards for days – it pisses Derek off to no end. I really couldn't ask for a better gift from the universe."

"Okay…" Jackson said, still slightly on guard with the beta.

"Well, just think about it," Isaac said, nodding, "He's going to ask you at lunch, he practiced his speech for you in the car. He's hoping you notice the shoes he's wearing. I assured him that with the way they light up, you'd be a dummy not to, so you better compliment them."

"Done," Jackson said, smiling again, "I noticed them first thing."

"Good," Isaac said, pushing a small white card forward, "Here's Stiles's work number, you'll want to let him know that Scotty's invited you if you're accepting."

"Thanks, Isaac. I will be – it's not 'just some lust thing'," Jackson said, taking the card, "Stiles is lucky to have such a supportive… ex-brother-in-law?"

"You'll have to ask Stiles about that ex part. Sometimes you _do_ get to pick your family, though," Isaac said, turning to watch Scott showing his sticker book to Kira, "Scott and Stiles are mine."

* * *

Jackson wiped his sweaty hands on his pants leg for what had to be the sixth time since the lunch period began.

_"Get a grip, Jackson,"_ Jackson thought.

He definitely should not be this anxious about a six year old asking him to dinner with his family. Except he totally was, because it was a step closer to Scott's father.

Jackson sighed slightly at the thought of Stiles Hale. Stiles was definitely hitting every category for Jackson – the man practically walked out of his wet dreams – Stiles was beautiful in an unexpected but completely intoxicating way, that mouth, those fingers, and that ass were seriously _obscene_. Plus Stiles had that kind of humor that revealed his own inner intelligence, with a bit of dark wit and sarcasm, but he was always smiling. It was uplifting. And it was obvious in the way Stiles cared for Scott that family was pretty important to the man, and that just made Jackson's heart melt.

Jackson still wasn't quite sure how Derek Hale fit into the picture, but he wasn't about to let that ruin an opportunity – especially when the invitation came personally from Scott. Jackson guessed that Scott wasn't too sure what was happening between his parents either, but from the way the little guy covered up anything resembling a wolf with lizard stickers indicated to Jackson that Scott knew Derek had hurt Stiles in some way.

Jackson was pulled out of his thoughts by a tug on his pants leg. He looked down to see Scott looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Hey, bud," Jackson said, "You want to sit up here with me?"

Scott nodded as he climbed onto the bench.

"I like your shoes," Jackson said, nodding to the sticker covered light-up sneakers, "Very cool. I may have to ask you to do the same to my own shoes, mine are boring and not getting me as much attention as I would like."

"Really?" Scott asked, face beaming.

"Really," Jackson said, nodding, "I wanted to tell you this morning, but I didn't want to embarrass you in front of Kira."

"Kira is so cool," Scott said, "She's like a _real_ fox!"

"I know. So awesome, right?" Jackson asked, nodding and offering his brightest smile to the boy.

Scott's face turned suddenly serious, little eyebrows furrowing in serious thought.

"Mr. Jack?" Scott asked.

"Yes, sir?" Jackson asked.

"Have you ever felt a bad hurt?" Scott asked, placing a small hand in the middle of Jackson's chest, "Like in here?"

* * *

Stiles turned from his computer at the sound of his office phone ringing.

"IT Desk, Beacon P.D., Stiles speaking," Stiles said.

"Stiles, this is Scott's teacher," a male voice said, "Jackson Whittemore."

"Oh!" Stiles said, sitting up abruptly to pay closer attention to the call, "Mr. Jack, hello – is everything okay? Is something wrong with Scott?"

Stiles's coworker, Danny, furrowed his eyebrows across from their shared desk.

"No, everything is fine, Scott is totally fine," Jackson said, "Scott is happily eating lunch in the cafeteria right now."

Stiles wondered if Jackson's voice had always sounded this silky. If he paid less attention to the man's biceps bulging out of his button ups in the morning, Stiles might remember.

"Oh, okay… Great," Stiles said, still slightly on guard, uncertain where the conversation was going if Scott was okay.

"Actually, I'm calling because Scott made a request of me," Jackson said, "He uh… He asked me if I would come to your house for dinner tonight."

"Oh," Stiles said, closing his eyes to block out Danny's smirk as blood pooled across the surface of his face, "Mr. Jack, I am so sorry about this. He just really admires you–"

"No, it's fine," Jackson said, "It's more than fine. I was actually calling to see if maybe _you_ would like me to come to dinner."

"I'm sorry?" Stiles squeaked.

"I mean, it's fine if you don't," Jackson said, voice hurried, "I just thought that maybe if _both_ Scott and you shared the invitation, then it wouldn't be such a bad idea. Maybe."

"Are you asking what I think you're asking, Mr. Jack?" Stiles asked.

"Stiles, I'm sorry if this is a bit forward, but I have really enjoyed getting to know Scott since he started Beacon's elementary school this year, and I think I would appreciate getting to know you just as much or more," Jackson said, "Since I moved here two years ago, I haven't found a lot of friends in the community. Scott has really accepted me with open arms, and I know that's in large part due to your own parenting. If you would allow me, nothing would make me happier than to walk back into that cafeteria and tell that little boy that I would love to join his family for dinner. But I understand if it's not something you want, or even if it's not the right time – I'm not sure if Scott proposed the idea earlier to you or not."

"Uh… No, no he didn't," Stiles said, feeling slightly flustered from Jackson's kind words, "But I don't see any harm in it. I'm a little caught of guard, I admit, but I think I agree with his request. It would be really nice if you would consider joining us for dinner sometime. Tonight, or this week, or next?"

"Well that depends," Jackson said, chuckling.

_"Christ,"_ Stiles thought, _"I am going to Hell for lusting after my son's first grade teacher."_

"Okay, on what?" Stiles asked, voice slightly cracking.

Stiles threw an office pen at Danny's smirking face across from him.

"What are you having tonight?" Jackson asked, silky voice turning light with happiness, "Oh, and Stiles?"

"Yes?" Stiles asked.

"Call me, Jackson, please," Jackson said.

_"Fuck,"_ Stiles thought.


	5. Bang

Derek knew that Kate Argent was a mistake – just like Jennifer Blake had been a mistake back in New York.

But as he was laid out on Chris Argent's bed, the man's muscular frame moving on top of him, hot mouth biting and licking across every inch of his skin, Derek found it more difficult to remember _why_ Kate was a mistake, since she had unknowingly led him to this current pleasure.

Someone else in his position might feel ashamed of such behavior, but Derek understood that the Argent family was just a passing phase – much like Jennifer had been, too. Derek simply had needs, especially as an alpha werewolf, that Stiles refused to meet right now.

Once Stiles let up on his sex ban, they could be a happy family again. Stiles just needed to learn that his actions had consequences, and it was him – not Derek – that was choosing this reality for their family. Derek had tried to explain that to the man in New York, but he had simply refused to listen to reason.

So Derek would wait until Stiles was ready to beg for his family to be reunited. Unfortunately, there were a few barriers currently in the way: 1) Derek's annoying and completely useless stepbrother, Isaac; 2) Stiles's father, the Sheriff; and 3) Fucking Jackson Fucking Whittemore, a sorry kanima that seemed to think Stiles was free to lust over. Few men were still standing after watching Stiles exit a room the way that the kanima did.

"Ow, fuck, Derek!" Chris yelled, "Put your fucking claws away, Jesus."

Derek closed his eyes.

The only reason the kanima still stood was because Scott wished it, but that might actually simply be another reason to kill it.

Derek pushed his whole body up into the air, every muscle tensing. The familiar and satisfying wave of a successful orgasm washing over his entire body.

Derek laid still on the mattress for several minutes, ignoring the other man moving about on the mattress. He didn't much care whether or not Chris had gotten to his own orgasm, the man was just an end to a necessary mean. Stiles was the only partner whose orgasm mattered to Derek.

Derek stood up quickly, searching for his jeans.

"I've got to go," Derek said, still looking at the floor as he pulled his jeans up, "I promised your sister dinner. Remember, you don't say a word to her about our arrangement."

"Mum's the word," Chris said, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"Good," Derek said, walking toward the door.

"By the way," Chris said, just before Derek opened the door, "I saw your husband and little boy at the grocery store last week. Cute family."

Derek growled, unsheathing his claws as he whipped around to face Chris again. He clutched the man's face in a harsh grasp, uncaring for the man's outcry of pain.

"You don't _ever_ look in their direction again," Derek hissed, "Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Chris yelled, face distorted in pain.

"If you so much as glance at Stiles, my cock will be the last thing on your mind the next time we meet," Derek said, turning back toward the door.

* * *

Isaac walked down the main stairway of the Hale house, listening intently for the location of the other house members. Strangely, he heard several heartbeats coming from the dining room, but little else.

Dinners at the Hale house were notoriously _loud_, especially with the intense family arguments that Derek had inspired as of late, not to mention Laura's bad habit of obnoxiously slurping anything liquid in a bowl.

Isaac stepped into the dining room to greet his family, but immediately stopped upon seeing the source for silence at the dinner table.

"Oh, my God," Isaac said, clutching his stomach dramatically, "It hurts. Oh the pain of too much vomit."

Kate Argent lifted a curious brow, while Derek simply growled at Isaac.

"Are you all fucking serious?" Isaac asked, looking around the room at the other Hale members.

Cora, Laura, and Rick seemed to be intensely mesmerized by the plates in front of them, while Talia simply looked displeased. With Derek or him, Isaac wasn't sure – perhaps both.

"Well, as much as I would hate to stay," Isaac said, pulling on his jacket, "Scotty has demanded my presence at tonight's Stilinski family dinner. I'm told it will be especially lizard-tastic."

The fork in Derek's hand snapped in two, followed by another growl from the alpha.

"Isaac, stop," his mother said, "Sit down, we need to support our family in these trying times."

"And that's exactly why I'll be at the Stilinski house tonight, mother," Isaac said, glaring around the room, "I think I'll be staying there for awhile from now on actually, I wouldn't want to disrupt any important Hale activities. John offered me the guest room last week anyways, after I complained too much about the growing stench in this house."

Talia watched as Isaac turned to walk out of the dining room, followed shortly after by the slam of the front door. She let loose a deep sigh.

"I think Isaac has the right idea," Laura said, standing up, "I'll be staying at Jordan's for awhile, but I think I'll stop by the Stilinski house on my way. I haven't seen my nephew in a long time."

"Laura, wait," Cora said, standing up as well, "Jordan has a guest room, right?"

"Cora!" Talia said.

"Laura works at the high school, she can drop me off every day," Cora said, staring defiantly back at her, "Our house is crazy right now, and not in a good way. I can't focus on my school like this."

"Do you think we should get some ice cream on the way?" Laura asked, already walking out of the dining room, "Scott loves chocolate chip."

"Amateur," Cora snorted, "Green sorbet or nothing. You've gotta think lizard, Laura."

"Girls!" Talia yelled, trying to control the situation.

The only reply Talia received was the slam of the front door.

"So," Rick said, grinning widely up at Derek and Kate, "I can smell that you have a brother, Kate."

"Excuse me?" Kate asked.

"Fuck off, Rick," Derek said, "Don't you have homework you should be doing right now?"

"Nope," Rick said, still smiling widely, "I stopped by the Sheriff's office after school. Stiles helped me with my trig."

Talia watched as Derek partially uprooted the table in his haste to stand up.

"Find your own way home, Kate," Derek growled, walking out of the dining room.

"This was fun," Rick said, just after the front door slammed closed for the third time, "It's too bad Peter wasn't here."


	6. Roar

Jackson took a deep breath before raising a hand to knock on the Stilinski's house door. By no means was tonight's dinner a _romantic_ date with Stiles Hale – even though it might eventually (hopefully) lead to one – no, Jackson knew that this dinner was more about making a good first impression.

Scratch that – a _fucking awesome_ first impression. Or at least Jackson hoped so, since it was clear that Scott had taken some pretty big risks by inviting him over for dinner. Not only was Jackson a _kanima_ coming over to a _werewolf's_ home, said werewolf was the grandson of Alpha Talia Hale, who was pretty open about her view that some supernatural creatures simply shouldn't mix.

Plus, Scott had, in an adorably unknowing way, kind of pimped Jackson out – making it clear that Jackson was invited there to cheer up his father. Jackson had a few ideas about how to succeed in that mission, but none that Stiles probably needed or would accept right now. Those offers would take time, and maybe a few _actual_ dates if Stiles would allow him.

Jackson couldn't help but chuckle at the sound of two feet pounding up to the door after his first knock. How such a small boy made such a big noise was beyond him.

"Mr. Jack!" Scott yelled, face beaming as he appeared to shake up and down with excitement, "You're at my house!"

"Yeah, bud," Jackson said, laughing as he crouched down to be face level with Scott, "You invited me, remember?"

"I know, but it's way more exciting now," Scott said, small hands wrapping nervously around the hem of his tank top.

"Awesome shirt, Scott," Jackson said, taking in the neon green top with three iguanas peeking out from various corners of the shirt, "Where did you even find something this cool?"

"Uncle Isaac found it on the Internet," Scott said, smile becoming even larger than Jackson had thought previously possible, "He bought daddy a matching one."

Scott leaned forward, setting a small hand on Jackson's shoulder.

"I always have a good day when I'm wearing mine," Scott whispered, "So I told daddy to wear his tonight, too."

"Whoa," Jackson whispered back, "I'm like really jealous right now, bud. I just wore this normal shirt, I'm not sure I'll fit in."

"Of course you will," Scott said, shaking his head like Jackson made no sense and then grabbed onto his hand to pull him into the house, "Come on. I'll show you the dinner table, me and Uncle Isaac set it up!"

Jackson smiled as he looked around the house that he was currently being dragged through. It looked homey, not really extravagant – just comfortable and lived in, with several of Scott's toys scattered around the floors from room to room.

"Wow," Jackson said, coming to the dining room table.

The table really did look nice – white dishes contrasting with a thick taupe table covering, embellished by the bronze candle sticks holding two lit candles. The masterpiece was the centerpiece though: a large glass jar filled with several of Scott's lizard toys.

Jackson recognized many of the toys as some of Scott's favorites from class show-and-tell.

"Wait a minute," Jackson said, narrowing his eyes and leaning forward to inspect the table's silverware, "Are those…"

"Lizards!" Scott yelled, clapping his hands frantically and smiling up at Jackson.

Scott had – probably with the help of Uncle Isaac – taped several small plastic lizards to the table's cutlery.

"Wow," Jackson repeated, crouching down again, "You did all this?"

"Yup," Scott said, nodding his head proudly.

"I'm speechless, Scott," Jackson said, "Thank you for working so hard to make this dinner lizard friendly."

"Lizards for life," Scott said, offering his tiny hand up for a fist bump.

"Scotty, what is taking you so long–" Stiles said, stepping into the dining room from the kitchen, "Oh, hello, Mr. Jack– I mean Jackson."

Jackson's mouth went dry as he took in Stiles's outfit, which was indeed a matching lime green iguana tank top. A tank top that definitely showed off more of Stiles's creamy skin with scattered freckles, freckles that Jackson would be happy to map out given the opportunity. Not to mention the navy shorts that were showing off Stiles's legs – did he run? Those looked like a runner's legs.

Jackson noticed that the top was pulled slightly left on Stiles's frame, so that dark glimpse of skin at the top was definitely a nip–

"Stop it," Isaac said, swiping Jackson's head as he came up from behind Jackson and Scott, "Scotty, this looks great! A job well done my man."

"Let's go check in on dinner, pal," Isaac said, lifting Scotty up to rest on the beta's shoulders and carrying him into the kitchen.

"Thank you for having me over tonight," Jackson said, smiling shyly back at Stiles now that the two were alone in the room, "You saved me from another frozen microwave dinner."

"Ha," Stiles said, smiling back, "Don't get too excited – Scotty insisted on a green theme tonight. I tried to tell him that lizards come in all sorts of colors, but he clearly has a preference. So I hope you're ready for some kale pesto pasta, and your choice of almost any variety of green fruit and vegetable."

"I think I can handle that," Jackson said, nodding, "It's really sweet of you to let him theme the meal like this, but it really wasn't necessary. I get the message – kanimas welcome."

"Hey," Stiles said, lifting his hands up into the air, "I had no choice in the matter, though I do approve the message. I was just told where to stick the tape. He also has a movie scheduled for after dinner, so I hope you're available for Tangled. It's his favorite for obvious Pascal reasons."

"I would love that," Jackson said, laughing, "Do we have assigned seating?"

"I think so," Stiles said, nodding seriously, "I tried to take a look at his clipboard, but he yelled at me for trying to sabotage his night."

Jackson laughed as he tried to picture a sour-faced Scott hunched over a clipboard protectively.

"You laugh now," Stiles said, "Wait until you upset his plans, I'll be seeing those eyebrows of doom in my dreams for a while. I didn't even know that he knew the word _sabotage_!"

"We visited Lydia's classroom last month," Jackson said, shuddering at the memory, "Needless to say, they were a very expressive group."

Before Stiles could respond, the pair were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, followed again by the pounding feet of Scott.

"Auntie Laura, Auntie Laura!" Scott yelled, running through the dining room for the front door.

"Oh, no," Stiles said, raising a hand to rub at his temples, "I apologize in advance for what is guaranteed to be an uncomfortable experience."

"Hey," Jackson said, reaching out to raise Stiles's face to look up at his own, "I'm pretty sure I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

"So, then Stiles took on the task of trying to teach Cora how to play the piano in the eleventh grade," Laura said to the whole dinner table, laughter starting to overcome her own narrative, "But what he didn't realize until two weeks in was that Cora's last teacher ended up committing himself to Eichen House!"

"Hey!" Cora yelled, "Mr. Deaton had his own problems, you can't blame that all on me!"

"Cora," Isaac said, "If you visit the man today, he still repeats, 'Never again, not ever again!'"

"Whatever," Cora said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, "Stiles tried for a whole month, and he's fine. Mr. Deaton just wasn't a well man, Beacon should thank me for helping him see that and removing him from our streets."

Stiles looked around the table. Scott sat on Isaac's lap, greedily digging into a bowl that was half lime sorbet and half mint chocolate chip – his son was a little odd. Definitely a Stilinski though. Cora and Isaac had moved onto a new argument of some kind, while Jackson, Laura, and Stiles's father, John, had begun discussing Laura's boyfriend, Jordan Parrish, a deputy at the police station.

Stiles hadn't felt this surrounded by so much love and support in a long time. Almost too long.

Stiles was about to get up to start clearing some of the dishes away so that everyone could move into the living room for Scott's movie, but then all except for his father seemed to visibly tense.

"Stiles," Isaac whispered, handing Scott over to him, "Do you know where your car keys are?"

"Yeah, they're in the kitch–" Stiles said.

"Good," Isaac whispered, "I want you to run. Sheriff, do you have your gun on you?"

"Isaac," Stiles said, hugging a stiff Scott closer, "What are you talking about?"

Before Isaac could respond, the whole house seemed to shake with the roar of a werewolf. If Stiles had to guess, a pissed off alpha werewolf named Derek Hale.

"Stiles, run!" Isaac yelled, standing up with Cora and Laura at the sound of the front door breaking.

Stiles held tightly to Scott as he ran for the kitchen, barely stopping to pick up the keys as he made for the back door.

"Daddy," Scott said, "Papa sounds mad."

"I know, baby," Stiles said, almost to his blue CJ5 Jeep, "He's just a little upset right now, but it'll be okay."

"Daddy," Scott said, "Papa looks mad."

Stiles turned slightly to look back to see an enraged looking and wolfed out Derek, red eyes set on him.

"Stiles!" Derek roared behind them.

"No, Papa!" Scott yelled, Stiles finally two feet away from the car, "You can't talk to my daddy while your eyes are red. Go away!"

"Shh, Scotty," Stiles said, opening the Jeep's door, "I want you to stay down on the floor, okay? This is not up for argument, do not get up unless Grandpa or I come get you, okay?"

"Daddy–" Scott said, face upset and trying to peek over Stiles's shoulder.

"Down, Scott!" Stiles said, "Now!"

Stiles shut the door and turned around, taking several steps away from the Jeep as Derek ran toward him. Stiles closed his eyes just as Derek got within a few feet, bracing himself for the impact. His heart raced with each pound of Derek's feet thundering across the lawn.

Except the impact never came, and everything became suddenly quiet.

"Daddy!" Scott yelled, forcing Stiles to open his eyes.

Derek stood still in front of Stiles, almost as if he had been frozen in time – arms and legs still bent as if in motion, and a hard red stare still set on his face.

"What the Hell?" Stiles asked, taking a step back.

"Stiles!" Jackson said, stepping out from behind Derek, "Are you okay? Oh, my God!"

"Jackson?" Stiles asked.

"He's okay, Stiles," Jackson said, wrapping two strong hands around Stiles's face, "He's just kind of frozen, but it will wear off. Are you okay?"

"Do it again, Mr. Jack!" Scott yelled from the car, "That was _so_ cool! Your tail came out of _nowhere_! Where do you keep it?!"

"You have a tail?" Stiles asked, just before falling forward into Jackson's arms and passing out.


	7. Pet

Stiles woke slowly and regretfully to the rest of the world. At first, he thought it had been the slight chirping of the robins outside that had risen him, but then he realized he could also hear Scott's uneven snoring, which was the far more likely culprit.

Eyes still closed, Stiles smiled as he tightened his arms around the little boy laying in front of him. He wondered when Scott had climbed into bed with him, not that he minded – someday Scott would be too busy and _cool_ to lay like this with his dad, so Stiles soaked it in while he could. Snoring or no snoring.

It was just when Stiles had started to think that the bed was almost unbearably warm for just the two of them that the pillows stacked against his backside moved slightly. And now that Stiles was starting to focus on them, he realized that the pillows were kind of stiff for pillows, and that they seemed to be encircled with his legs even.

Stiles opened his eyes slowly to take in the bed before him. Just as he had expected, Scott's large head rested against his shoulder, mouth wide open and eyes firmly shut. What he hadn't expected, however, was the tanned hand resting against his hip, which was attached to a tanned arm that wrapped around him from behind.

Turning his head as gently as possible, Stiles peeked behind himself only to find Jackson Fucking Whittemore.

_"Oh, fuck,"_ Stiles thought, suddenly remembering Scott's special dinner for his teacher.

The dinner that had unfortunately been interrupted by Derek, which led to Jackson intervening between Derek and Stiles.

Jackson shuffled forward, latching more firmly onto Stiles's torso and pushing up until his face rested against Stiles's neck and shoulder.

_"Oh, fuck,"_ Stiles thought, realizing Jackson was brushing more than his face up against Stiles's body.

Stiles really shouldn't be enjoying the feeling of Jackson's muscled body wrapped around him. Not only was the man Scott's teacher, but Stiles was still technically married to Derek. And while that probably wouldn't be for much longer after last night, that fact didn't necessarily make it right in the moment.

"So warm, baby," Jackson whispered into Stiles's ear.

_"Fuck,"_ Stiles thought, not appreciating how that one utterance did nothing to help Stiles _stop_ enjoying the moment.

"Jackson," Stiles whispered, nudging the shoulder Jackson's face rested on, "Jackson, wake up."

"Mmm," Jackson said.

"Jackson, come on," Stiles whispered again, shaking his shoulder more urgently.

"Mr. Jack," Scott said, eyes still closed but little arm reaching forward in the direction of Jackson, "Daddy wants you awake."

"Stiles?" Jackson asked, blinking blearily as he pulled back.

At Jackson's greeting, Scott seemed satisfied, yawning and turning away from the pair before pushing himself backwards to snuggle deeper into Stiles.

Stiles snorted at his son before turning back to a blushing Jackson.

"Hey," Stiles said, offering a shy smile, "I don't really know how we ended up _here_, but I do remember the parts before it. And I think I owe you a big thanks."

"Oh," Jackson said, shaking his head, "Not really, don't worry about it. But, uh… Scott kind of insisted. About our sleeping together. Here. In bed. Not like _sleeping_ sleeping! Just like _laying_ and the… Sleeping."

"Christ," Jackson said, covering his face with his hands.

"Hey," Stiles said, laughing as he pulled at Jackson's hands, "Don't be embarrassed. If anyone has anything to be embarrassed about, it's me– Wait, are those my pajama pants?"

Jackson looked down at the Rugrats Reptar sleeping pants that Scott had insisted Stiles purchase last month – Scott had a matching pair, which the little guy was currently wearing. Stiles mentally deleted the internal "aww" that sprang forward at the realization that Jackson and Scott were wearing the same sleep pants.

Nope, that wasn't adorable. Especially not in Jackson's case, since the pants looked snug. Stiles's mouth dried as he continued to look down. The pants were leaving very little to the imagination, and Stiles hadn't even seen the back yet.

"Yes!" Jackson said, blushing a deeper red as he reached forward to place a pillow in front of his crotch, "And I think I'm suddenly feeling embarrassed again."

"I don't see how that's possible when I'm the one not wearing _any_ sleep pants," Stiles said, snorting.

The pair were interrupted by a knocking on the bedroom door, followed by Isaac's head peeking in.

"This seems like an appropriate time to rescue my nephew," Isaac said, stepping up to the bed and picking a still sleeping Scott up, "Cora and Laura are downstairs, they decided to stay after mom picked Derek up. Just in case. John and Jordan are making breakfast in the kitchen, so come down whenever you want some, but you know… Take your time."

With an awkward waving motion between Jackson and Stiles, Isaac turned to leave the room.

"So," Jackson said, clearing his throat, "Do we need to talk about… Anything?"

Stiles snorted at the way Jackson repeated Isaac's awkward hand wave between them.

"Well," Stiles said, "I don't know. Is there anything _you_ would like to talk about?"

"Uh… Well…" Jackson said, gaze shifting back and forth between the room and Stiles, "This was nice. Waking up like this. Next to you and Scott."

"Yeah," Stiles said, nodding his head, "That was nice. And dinner was nice, at least while it lasted. You really seemed to charm my father. And Isaac clearly likes you."

"I think Isaac likes anyone that's not Derek," Jackson said, smiling as he reached out to grasp Stiles's hand and tapping a finger on the wedding band, "Which is maybe something we should talk about."

Stiles let loose a deep sigh as he settled back down onto the pillows behind him.

"I've been considering a divorce for some time now," Stiles said, shaking his head, "But after last night… He kind of made my decision for me. It's just difficult, because that's… _That_ was not the man I married, Jackson. And it's not the way I want you, or Scott, or anyone else to think of him. He was lost last night, I didn't recognize anything in his eyes. But I don't think I can help him anymore."

Jackson leaned down next to Stiles, resting on his elbow and propping his head up with his hand.

"When did things change between the two of you?" Jackson asked, "Not that you have to tell me. You just seem tense still, it might be good to talk about it. Unless you want me to go get Isaac? Or your dad?"

"I haven't told them, either," Stiles said, eyes brimming with tears, "It's not a _good_ story, and I'm not sure if I reacted correctly. Sometimes I think I drove him to be like this."

"Hey," Jackson said, wiping a tear from Stiles's cheek, "I'm sure you didn't do anything to cause Derek to act like an asshole. He's an alpha, it comes naturally. I promise you."

Stiles laughed, wiping his other cheek dry.

"I think our big issue started in our third year of marriage," Stiles said, taking a shaky breath and looking at the wall in front of him, "I remember Scott wasn't very old, just a few months past one year. I had taken him out to the park for the day, so Derek could have the house to himself to focus. He was reviewing some big legal contract for an architectural project or something."

Jackson nodded his head, paying close attention to the story.

"When we came back, I walked into his study only to find him… Masturbating to a chat room," Stiles said, already getting flustered by the feelings of anger from the memory, "It didn't help that the subject was a tense one for us already. About a year before that I discovered his pretty frequent porn habit. And it's not that I think porn is bad, I've enjoyed it myself – I just had never really thought about porn while in our relationship. I didn't understand why he needed it, or wanted it, while we were together. Maybe it would have been different if he had asked me to explore it with him?"

Stiles's chest began tightening, and he took a breath before continuing.

"I don't know, I just felt… And this might sound really dumb," Stiles said, looking back at Jackson, "I kind of felt cheated on. And I felt really stupid trying to explain that to him, because he just didn't seem to understand. I tried explaining to him that it felt like an intimacy issue. I was giving him all of me, but then he was using these images of other people's bodies in a very intimate way without me – including people from chatrooms that he had never met before. It was too much."

"What happened?" Jackson asked, nudging Stiles's hands with his own.

"I asked him to stop," Stiles said, "At least the chatrooms, but I did ask him to try sharing porn with me when he felt like he really needed it. That was my attempt to compromise, but even when he said yes, I felt uneasy. It was done and over too quickly, and he didn't want to discuss it any further. I didn't really trust him anymore, which was the most damaging part for us, I think."

"But you stayed together for a long time after that?" Jackson asked.

"Five more years," Stiles said, nodding, "And it was in the sixth year of the eight that a woman called the house looking for Derek. She was nice enough, but didn't leave a name, and I wouldn't have thought much of it except for the way that Derek grew angry when I told him some unknown woman had called looking for him. It was two months later, after being caught in several lies, that he admitted the woman was a mistress. We had been in kind of a rut that year, not having a lot of sex, and he told me that that was what frustrated him, had led him to her. I was absolutely devastated."

"Stiles," Jackson said, wiping at Stiles's cheeks again, "I am so sorry that happened to you."

"We spent the next year and a half trying to work it out in New York," Stiles said, trying to blink his eyes dry, "And when we couldn't, I asked to come home, hoping that the support of our families could help us figure it out. Instead, Derek found Kate Argent, his newest mistress."

"Stiles, I am really, truly sorry for what you went through," Jackson said, staring earnestly back at Stiles, "And I am even more sorry that your family is still being challenged by these issues. I know it's not for me to affirm or validate your actions, or to bash Derek, but I do want you to know that you have my friendship and support no matter what happens, and I hope that helps a little."

Stiles pulled Jackson on top of him, wrapping his arms around the man for a deep hug.

"You don't know how much that means to me, Jackson," Stiles whispered.

Stiles cleared his throat before pushing Jackson back.

"And I know that we should talk about us–" Stiles said.

"Save it," Jackson said, lifting Stiles's face up with a hand on his chin, "I think it's pretty clear that I'm a little more interested in you than as simply a friend. Reptar was pretty vocal."

Stiles snorted as he shoved at Jackson's shoulder.

"But you need some time, and I get that," Jackson said, "I think that you are _interested_ in me, though, right?"

"Yeah, Jackson," Stiles said, blushing as he nodded his head, "I'm interested."

"Great!" Jackson said, "I mean… Good. Why don't we head down for breakfast then? We'll figure the rest of this out later."

"I would like that a lot," Stiles said, smiling, "And I'm pretty sure Scott will be stoked when he's awake enough to realize you're here this morning."

"I'm going to go find my clothes then," Jackson said, chuckling, "I think I left them in the bathroom. I'll be right back."

Once the bedroom door closed behind Jackson, Stiles sighed back down into the mattress.

"Stiles?" his father's voice whispered through the door, followed by a soft knock.

"Yeah, dad?" Stiles asked.

The Sheriff opened the door and peeked his head in. If Stiles didn't know better, he would say that Isaac and his father were cut from the same cloth.

"Are you going on a date with him soon?" his father asked.

"Excuse me?!" Stiles asked.

"Jackson," his father said, rolling his eyes as if he thought Stiles was the slow one, "Did you have _the talk_? Isaac said he left you up here."

"Yes, Pops," Stiles said, "We had _a_ talk, but no, we're not officially dating right now. I'm just a little bit still married, unless you forgot."

"I know," his father said, sighing with exasperation, "But this one seems like a real keeper. I kept my feelings to myself with Derek, but I want it on record now that I approve."

"Thanks, Pops," Stiles said, "I'll remember that when I give him the official interview."

"Skip the interview, son," his father said, "Scott approves, Isaac approves, I approve. Boyfriend accepted. Actually, if he's open to it, I am friends with the man that runs those court marriages downtown. You could be divorced and remarried tonight."

Stiles threw one of the pillows from behind him at his father, unfortunately the Sheriff closed the door before it could hit him.

* * *

Jackson chuckled as Scott shuffled back into the living room, carrying a ridiculously large bowl of popcorn over to the large reclining chair that the little guy was sharing with Isaac. Scott _had_ been really excited to find Jackson at the breakfast table this morning, and fortunately for everyone, he seemed to recall more about Jackson's tail than the whole ordeal involving his father from the night before.

Scott had insisted that they spend the rest of the morning watching Tangled, since his after-dinner movie plans had been previously foiled. He was currently playing waiter – or maybe host would be the better descriptor – ensuring everyone had a drink or snack of some kind throughout the movie.

Scott handed the large bowl of popcorn up to Isaac before making his way back to the love-seat he had insisted Jackson and Stiles share. Jackson almost lost it with laughter when Stiles had leaned over to whisper, "I told you he had assigned seating."

"Her gold hair was nice, but her new hair is much better, don't you think so, daddy?" Scott asked Stiles, climbing up onto the love-seat to sit between Jackson and Stiles.

"Very chic," Stiles said, nodding his head.

Jackson felt a small hand curl its way into the thick wave of his hair.

"Brown is much better, it looks really soft, too, kind of like Mr. Jack's," Scott said, now petting Jackson's head, "Right, dad?"

"Ha," Stiles said, barely able to contain his laughter, "I do, Scotty. Very soft."

"And he's really funny, that Flynn guy, isn't he, Mr. Jack?" Scott said, hands moving out of Jackson's hair and latching onto Stiles's face, pushing his cheeks up into an exaggerated smile, "Kind of like daddy."

"Um… Yeah, bud," Jackson said, unsure whether the situation was still funny, "They're both very funny."

"Good," Scott said, nodding his head seriously, before jumping off the love-seat and heading out of the living room.

"Did he just compare me to Rapunzel?" Jackson asked, "And you to Flynn Rider?"

"Uh… I think he did," Stiles said, nodding seriously, "Where did he go, Isaac?"

"I can hear John giving him a dollar in the kitchen," Isaac said, still watching the television screen intently, "And be happy with your comparisons. He told me I would look good in green. I just knew if anybody was the lizard, it was lover boy over there. I thought I was _at least_ the horse!"


	8. Sigh

Stiles focused on the steady drizzle of rain coming from the open window in his bedroom. He let loose a deep sigh before turning from his side and onto his back, throwing a pillow over his head and groaning.

It was nearly 3:00am, and he simply couldn't find rest. Each time he closed his eyes, too much began running through his mind: his divorce proceedings with Derek, the worry of explaining what that meant to Scott, and the promise of a potential future with Jackson.

Though the former two were easily Stiles's largest troubles, the latter instilled a deep sense of guilt that he found hard to overcome. Did he deserve the new future that Jackson represented? And how could he reject Derek's seemingly obsessive sexual appetite when Jackson's own physical attributes kept him awake some nights?

Like tonight. Because it was becoming harder to ignore the earning for someone else's touch, especially when Jackson constantly offered Stiles that perfect blend of smile and smirk each time he dropped off or picked up Scott from school. It was better than caffeine – pure energy, and Stiles had a feeling Jackson really could be the best part of waking up.

And fuck that man's pants. With their perfect contour, reminding him that Jackson definitely did a couple of squats a day, Stiles couldn't take it much longer. Not to mention the constant dirt or smudges on the knees from when the man crouched down to speak with Scott. Was that intentional? Did he know what that did to Stiles?

Stiles took a deep breath in. He knew that Jackson and pants was a line of thought that Stiles was simply better off avoiding altogether, because it only made him think back to the Reptar incident nearly four weeks ago. Which was also Stiles's new name for Jackson's personal member: Reptar. It seemed fitting, since not only was the man a kanima, but Reptar had kind of roared up at him.

Reptar looked long, more so than wide, which Stiles could appreciate. He also had a little bit of a curve to him, and that made Stiles curious how that would –

_"This is ridiculous,"_ Stiles thought, lifting himself out of bed to head downstairs, _"I need to cool off."_

Making his way as quietly as possible down the stairs and into the kitchen, Stiles lifted a glass from the cabinet next to the fridge. He raised the sink tap to fill the glass, choosing to rest against the sink and stare out the dark window as he gulped down the water.

As he filled the glass for a second time, Stiles felt the paranoia of being watched overcome him. He turned off the tap and set the glass down into the sink, focusing his hearing on the rest of the room.

"I need sleep," Stiles said, shaking his head, along with the paranoia.

"I can help you with that, baby," a rough male voice whispered into his ear.

Stiles felt the all too familiar feeling of stubble rub against the back of his neck, followed by two strong arms locking across his torso.

"Jesus, Derek!" Stiles said, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Still facing the window, Stiles saw the red glow of Derek's eyes reflected as the alpha's hands begin to wander across his thighs.

"I came to discuss those ridiculous papers that your father _personally_ delivered to my house," Derek growled.

"Derek," Stiles said, pushing against the alpha to turn around and face him, "This isn't really the best way to go about that conversation. Breaking and entering into the _Sheriff's_ house at three in the morning is less than ideal."

"And," Stiles said, placing a hand on Derek's chest and pushing, "I would like some space while I ask you to leave. Which reminds me, please leave."

"Enough," Derek said, shaking his head, "I've let you try to realize this on your own, but I'm done playing around, Stiles."

Instead of moving further away, Derek eliminated all space between himself and Stiles.

"You're mine, baby," Derek growled into Stiles's ear, reaching a hand down to cup Stiles's ass, "And I've been really missing you. So, why don't I join you upstairs? We can tell Scott our family is back together over breakfast."

"Derek," Stiles said, trying to keep his breathing and voice calm, "You almost attacked me last month, not to mention you've been cheating on me with multiple people!"

"None of them _mean_ anything, baby," Derek said, cupping Stiles's face with both hands, "I told you that I have needs, and you accepted that a long time ago."

"That's because it was high school, and I was a horny asshole, too," Stiles said, rolling his eyes, "But _you've_ changed the game on us, and I just… I can't do it anymore, and I won't do it anymore. Can't you understand that? Don't you get how much this has hurt me?"

"So, that's it?!" Derek yelled, "You're going to throw us away because of a few hard times? How are you going to explain to Scott that you're destroying his family, Stiles? And if you think I'm going to let that _kanima_ play a parenting role to him, you're fucking insane. I will _end_ him!"

Stiles felt his eyes brim with tears and his face heat with blood.

"Derek," Isaac said, standing in the archway leading into the kitchen with gold eyes and arms crossed, "I believe Stiles has asked you to go. This might be a good time to start being a _good_ husband while you can still claim the title."

Derek turned his red gaze onto Isaac, but he let go of Stiles and took a step back.

"You joining Stiles in taking back the Stilinski family name, Isaac?" Derek asked, voice still thick with growl.

"Maybe," Isaac said, shrugging his shoulders, "It has its appeals."

"We'll continue this later, _hubby_," Derek said, turning his gaze back to Stiles.

Stiles sank to his knees, leaning against the counter, as Derek walked out the kitchen's back door. He covered his face with his hands and let loose a shaky breath.

Stiles heard more than saw Isaac take a few steps closer to him.

"Am I doing the right thing, Isaac?" Stiles asked.

"Yes," Isaac said, crouching down and pulling Stiles's hands from his face, "But you don't need me to tell you that."

"But Scott–" Stiles said.

"Will be fine," Isaac said, shrugging, "Just like millions of other kids in the world, if anything it will give him some extra character. Would you rather he grow up watching you ignore Derek's sexual affairs, or would you prefer him to see you stand up for yourself?"

"You make it sound easy," Stiles said, staring down at the floor's ceramic tile.

"If my asshole stepbrother could stop logging into ButchDixon every day, would you still want him, Stiles?" Isaac asked.

"You heard that?" Stiles asked, face morphing into a cringe.

"Well, Cora and Laura sort of insisted when one of them overheard you mention Derek's name," Isaac said, nodding, "The Sheriff kept Scotty busy though, so don't worry about that."

"Great," Stiles said sarcastically.

"Hey," Isaac said, placing an arm around Stiles's shoulders, "Don't be mad, we've been worried about you – _all_ of us. And I'm sorry that we listened in on a private moment, but Stiles, you haven't talked that much to us about this. And you know Derek won't, he thinks the issue is you."

Stiles remained silent but leaned into Isaac.

"Come on," Isaac said, pulling on Stiles, "Let's go back upstairs. _Someone's_ yelling voice woke up a grumpy little werewolf, and after he came to get me, I sent him to your room. I figured you two would sleep better together tonight."

"Thanks, Isaac, for… Everything," Stiles said, resting a hand on Isaac's shoulder as the pair walked back to the stairs.

"I like your boxers by the way," Stiles said, nodding at the black boxers with neon green lizards crawling all around.

"Thanks," Isaac said, rolling his eyes, "A special someone helped pick them out."

"Isaac," Stiles said, trying to contain his laughter as he stopped walking up the steps, "Are the lizards glowing?"

"Shut up," Isaac said, scowling back at Stiles, "You created the monster that made me buy them. The day that you can say no to his puppy eyes is the day that I will accept your judgement."

"Aww," Stiles said, continuing to walk up the steps again, "No, they're great. Maybe you should help me snuggle Scotty tonight. You know, just in case he needs a night light."

"I hope Jackson knows that you're a horrible person," Isaac said, mouth set in a firm pout as the beta walked to the guest room.

* * *

Stiles chewed on the pen cap in his mouth as he stared at the office computer's screen in front of him. Every now and then he would shift his gaze to Danny across from him.

He let loose a large sigh before recapping the pen and tapping it repeatedly against the surface of the desk. He shifted his gaze to Danny again to see if the man had noticed his behavior.

Having received no reaction at all, Stiles lifted his arms into a long stretch above him, groaning loudly as he did so.

"Okay, what." Danny said, tossing his own pen down onto the desk and turning an annoyed gaze onto Stiles.

"Excuse me?" Stiles asked.

"What." Danny said, "Do. You. Want."

"I think you forgot a few question marks back there, at least twice," Stiles said, picking his pen back up and twisting it between his hands.

"Stiles, for the love of God," Danny said, "I swear I will go get your father if you do not just tell me what you want."

"Okay, okay," Stiles said, lifting his hands up into the air, "But it's kind of a personal question. I'm not sure I should ask."

"Well," Danny said, voice turning dry, "If you don't, one of us will end up dead, because I will either harm you or myself from aggravation."

"All right," Stiles said, "You're sure you don't mind?"

"Stiles–" Danny said.

"Okay!" Stiles said, "Do you remember that boyfriend you told me about, the one you had back in college?"

"Which one?" Danny asked.

"The one that kept asking for you to consider a threesome," Stiles said, "Like… With his twin brother?"

"Oh," Danny said, nodding, "Ethan, yeah. The alpha. What about him?"

"You said that after you ended things, he sought help, didn't you?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah," Ethan said, "He entered a rehab center for sex addicts. We still talk, he's doing well for himself."

"Can you…" Stiles said, unsure whether the bubble growing in his chest was from embarrassment or frustration, "Would you mind telling me more about that?"


	9. Screech

Stiles bit nervously on his bottom lip as he held his mobile phone to his ear, waiting for Jackson to pick up.

"Hey," Jackson said, voice a little thicker than Stiles wanted it to be right now.

"Hey," Stiles said, "I have a favor to ask of you, but it's a big one. I wouldn't ask if Isaac weren't already–"

"Stiles," Jackson said, chuckling, "Just ask already."

"Okay," Stiles said, "But you retain the right to say no. I need you to know that I won't be upset."

* * *

Stiles watched the Sexual Recovery Center grow closer as the Sheriff's patrol car pulled up onto the driveway of the ranch.

The ranch was several hours away from Beacon Hills, but it was rated as one of the best recovery centers for sexual addicts on the West Coast.

The Sheriff parked the car, and Stiles continued to stare up at the main building from the passenger window, twisting his hands in his lap and bouncing his right knee from nervous tension.

Stiles heard his father let loose a sigh.

"Stiles," his father said, "You don't have to do this."

"I think I do, Pops," Stiles said, still staring out the window.

"Stiles, I want you to look at me," his father said, placing a hand on Stiles's shoulder and waiting for Stiles to turn his head before continuing, "I am so proud of the man that you have become. You're more than intelligent, you're a caring father, friend, and son. You carry yourself with a quiet wit – which is sometimes alarming consider the spastic teenager I remember from just yesterday – and you smile through your pain. Every day. You don't give up when things get tough, even though you might need a break sometimes. But, Hell, who doesn't? And that's what I want you to remember when you walk in there, that you did _not_ give up on your marriage, and today is a testament to the love that you have for your family. Most would simply sign the papers and walk away. I can already tell you that Scott will never be disappointed in you as his father, you will guide him well. Whether this works out or not, he will know that you love him. That's what matters."

"Dad…" Stiles said, eyes brimming with tears.

"Save the tears for inside, son," his father said, "Something tells me this won't be easy."

"All right," Stiles said, taking a deep breath, "Let's do this. For better or worse, right?"

"Unfortunately," his father said, stepping out of the car.

* * *

Jackson chuckled as Scott sat dwarfed in the passenger seat of his Porsche, little hands folded in his lap, large head watching the scenery pass by through the passenger window.

"Mr. Jack?" Scott asked, suddenly turning away from the window.

"Yeah, bud?" Jackson asked, glancing quickly back at Scott.

"How much did this car cost?" Scott asked.

"What?" Jackson asked, laughing, "What kind of question is that, Scott?"

"Grandpa says teachers don't make any money," Scott said, "So I wanted to know how you bought this car. It's way shinier than daddy's, and he's not a teacher."

"Ha," Jackson said, "Yeah, Scotty, this car cost a lot, but I didn't buy it."

"You didn't?!" Scott asked, eyes grown in size when Jackson glanced back at the boy.

"Nope," Jackson said, shaking his head.

"Mr. Jack!" Scott yelled, "You need to tell grandpa, maybe he won't arrest you if you tell him first."

"Arrest me?" Jackson asked, "Why would he do that, bud?"

"Because you didn't pay for this car," Scott said, Jackson noting from his peripheral that the boy's hands were waving violently, "That's called _stealing_!"

"No, Scott," Jackson said, shaking his head, "I didn't steal it, my father bought–"

"Maybe we can return it," Scott said, little brows furrowed in thought, "One time I stole a Butterfingers, and grandpa took me back to the store to return it and apologize, so I wouldn't have to go to jail. You should apologize, Mr. Jack."

"No, Scott–Fuuuuu…" Jackson yelled, throwing an arm out across Scott's body as he swerved the car quickly to avoid the black Camaro that had suddenly pulled onto the road and stopped.

"Are you okay, Scott?" Jackson asked, quickly lifting Scott's arms up and down to assess the boy, right hand moving to rest on Scott's head.

"Yeah," Scott said, nodding and twisting around in the seat, "But that's Papa!"

Already forgotten about the other driver, Jackson looked out the driver's window only to see Derek Hale stepping out of the Camaro, deep scowl in tact.

"I'll be right back, bud," Jackson said, "Your papa and I just need to have a chat, okay?"

"Hi, Papa!" Scott yelled out of the open door as Jackson stepped out of the car.

Jackson shut the door and walked a few feet away from the Porsche.

"Are you fucking _crazy_?" Jackson whispered, glancing back at his Porsche with Scott's head peeking out the windows.

"You've got my son," Derek growled, starting to step passed Jackson.

"Yes, I do," Jackson said, placing a hand on Derek's shoulder to prevent him from moving forward, "And Stiles has asked me to look after him for the night. Which is where he'll remain, with me."

"That's not his or your decision to make, _kanima_," Derek said, eyes bleeding red, "That's my son, and you can't stop me from taking him."

"Actually," Jackson said, offering a smirk back to the alpha, "The Sheriff has personally asked me to call him if you give me any issue, but I think we both know that won't be necessary, _wolf_."

"And why's that?" Derek growled, chest heaving with anger.

"Because the last time I saw you, your poor mother was trying to figure out how to buckle your frozen ass into the backseat of her car. It took her an hour with the help of both your sisters," Jackson said, huge grin in tact, "I was kind of hoping she'd have to stop suddenly on the way home, you might've broken when you fell."

Jackson rolled his eyes as Derek offered another growl.

"Is that all you can do, growl?" Jackson asked, "Look man, I get it. You're upset that Stiles is leaving you, I'd be upset, too. But you're not doing anything but _hurting_ your family. If you cause a scene now, it will be the second time your son watches you act with violence. For his sake, please just get back in your car."

"Don't tell me how to be a parent," Derek gritted out over his growing fangs.

"Then be one," Jackson said, narrowing his eyes back at the alpha, "And man the fuck up while you're at it, be a good human being. Try helping some little old ladies across the street instead of running them over, hand a few balloons out to make up for the ones you've popped, and _sign_ those divorce papers you've been sitting on for weeks."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Derek said, eyes glinting as he offered an ugly smirk back at Jackson, "Has he offered his ass to you, yet?"

"Hale–" Jackson said.

"He says he hasn't," Derek said, leaning forward to sniff at Jackson, "And you smell like he hasn't, but I know he's a slut for cock. Practically begs for it. It takes _hours_ before he's satisfied, and you should know that I'm the only one that can really satisfy him."

"Turn around," Jackson said between gritted teeth, "Get back in your car, and _never_ speak about Stiles like that again. Or I'll remind you why _wolves_ don't mess with _kanima_."

Derek's red eyes seemed to intensify briefly before diminishing, returning to their original hazel color. The alpha stepped to the side and lifted a hand to wave at the Porsche.

"Bye, Scott," Derek yelled, "I'll see you later, son."

Jackson let loose a sigh as he watched Derek turn around, headed back to the Camaro. Jackson returned to his own car once the alpha had started the Camaro.

"Did Papa want to join our sleepover?" Scott asked, eyes wide.

"No, bud," Jackson said, shaking his head, "He just had a question about your daddy."

"Oh," Scott said, nodding his head, "Well, we'll have a lot of fun anyways. He's missing out."

"Yeah, Scott," Jackson said, offering a large grin back to the boy, "Your papa is missing out."

* * *

"Erica Reyes?" Stiles asked, stepping up to a young blonde woman sitting alone near the television in the center's community room.

"Yes?" the blonde asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning back further into the couch.

Erica looked about Stiles's own age, except tired. More tired than Stiles felt most days. The dark circles under her eyes were only highlighted by her pale skin and blonde hair.

"Um…" Stiles said, taking a seat next to the couch and extending a hand, "I'm a friend of Ethan Carver's, sort of, and he gave me your name. I think someone I love – or once loved – is suffering from sexual addiction. I was hoping to learn more about it, but I wanted the perspective of…"

"A sex addict?" Erica asked, rolling her eyes, "You couldn't just read a pamphlet? Google not working today? Ethan's story not juicy enough?"

"Oh," Stiles said, standing up quickly, "I'm sorry if I've offended you, I just thought this would be better. I didn't want to hear a marketing spiel, and Ethan wasn't treated at this center. I just wanted to–"

"Stiles, sit down," his father said, pulling a chair up next to Stiles's and extending a hand out to Erica, "Hello, ma'am, my name is John. And I think what my anxious son here was trying to tell you is that his family needs help, and he was hoping you might be willing to share you experience so that he can know better how to heal his. We're looking into this center for assistance."

Though Erica's scowl lessened, it didn't disappear. The blonde bit on her lip as she threw an assessing gaze upon Stiles.

"You have a family?" Erica asked, voice noticeably thicker than before.

"A soon to be ex-husband," Stiles said, nodding, "And a little boy. He's six years old, I've got photos if you'd like to see."

Stiles grinned and pulled his mobile phone out as Erica nodded her head.

"I assume your _soon to be ex-husband_ is the sex addict?" Erica asked, taking the phone Stiles offered to her.

"Maybe," Stiles said, "I'm not sure. I don't know much about these type of… relationship struggles. I just have a feeling."

"I have a little girl – or had, I guess," Erica said, staring down at Stiles's phone in her hand, "Braeden, she turned eight last month. I haven't seen her in a long time, but that's my own fault."

Stiles stared anxiously at Erica, waiting for the blonde to continue.

"I had a husband, too, Boyd. I guess in your circumstance, you're him. As many mistakes as I made, I think I would have really appreciated it if he had done what you're doing today, just once," Erica said, looking up at Stiles with teary eyes, "What do you want to know?"

"Uh… Well," Stiles said, glancing nervously back at his father, "I guess… When you knew that you were a sex addict. How you knew. What your recovery is like. How your family was or is affected, and maybe how they hurt you or could have helped you. Any of that really, whatever you feel comfortable answering."

Erica snorted.

"That's a large order," Erica said, tangling a hand in the blanket on her lap.

"Yes, ma'am," Stiles said, nodding.

"Well," Erica said, "It's a complicated story, I hope you've got quarters for the snack machine. I like the Oreos."

The Sheriff pulled Stiles's hand into his own as Erica took a deep breath, her cheeks already wet with tears.


	10. Ring

Isaac sighed at the telltale sound of a 2010 Chevrolet Camaro driver side door being angrily slammed shut. He glanced around the living room to watch the reactions of the other Hale members as Derek approached the Hale house. Laura rolled her eyes but maintained focus on the television, and Rick's face seemed to slip into a smug smirk, eyes lighting up as they watched the hallway leading to the entrance of the house.

Isaac knew there was a reason Rick was his favorite brother. Other than the obvious asshole that was Derek reason.

The trio turned their heads in various tilts to eavesdrop as Derek's yelling grew more discernible.

"Thinks he can just leave my son with a fucking _kanima_?!" Derek yelled, followed by the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut.

Laura offered a brief sympathetic gaze to Isaac, who simply shook his head.

"What the fuck are you three doing here?" Derek asked, passing by the living room's arched entrance, "I thought you moved out to support Stiles."

"Cora was the third, not Rick, genius," Isaac said dryly, "Which is why we're here, to visit our favorite brother."

"Aww, I'm really your favorite?" Rick asked, head whipping around to look at Isaac and Laura.

"Don't linger on it, Rick," Isaac said, offering a small smile to the teenager.

"Whatever," Derek said, headed for the stairway, "Just stay out of my way, I'm busy. Mom's upstairs?"

"Busy doing what?" Rick asked.

"Mind your own fucking business, Rick," Derek yelled.

"The favorite brother title isn't really winning with competition like him," Rick said, shaking his head.

"Shh," Laura said, head tilted toward the stairs.

Isaac focused his hearing on the rest of the house.

"Thinks he can just do whatever he likes," Derek muttered, "I'll show him, I'll show all of them. It's time I take back what's mine. For good."

"Hey, Isaac," Rick said once Derek's muttering stopped at the sound of Talia's study door closing, "You said Scotty was staying with Jackson Whittemore tonight, right? He's the kanima that Derek is up in arms about?"

"Yeah," Isaac said, unsure where Rick's questioning was leading.

"Do you know where he lives?" Rick asked.

* * *

Jackson's focus was pulled from the television as the warm bundle to his left began to stir. Scott had insisted after dinner that they sit down on the couch to watch the Discovery channel, but the little boy had fallen asleep when it became apparent that no lizards were going to be featured on screen.

"Hey, pal," Jackson said, grinning at the way Scott's dark eyebrows pulled into a scowl as his eyes blinked blearily open.

"Mr. Jack?" Scott asked, small scowl still present.

"Yeah, Scott?" Jackson asked.

"Where's my daddy?" Scott asked.

"He had to visit a friend out of town last minute, bud. Remember?" Jackson said, "That's why you came home with me tonight."

"Oh, yeah," Scott said, brow smoothing before stretching with a yawn, "I got to choose dinner."

"And my eyes have been opened," Jackson said, "It's like I'm seeing color for the first time – I had no idea dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets actually _tasted_ better. I just thought people liked them for their shape. My parents only ever made me regular shaped nuggets."

"Dinosaurs are awesome, and daddy likes them, too" Scott said, nodding, small frame sinking deeper into the cushion of the couch.

"You've got some special daddy to help you learn these things," Jackson said.

"Mr. Jack?" Scott asked, head turned down so that the boy was staring into his own lap.

"Yeah, bud?" Jackson asked, unsure what had Scott looking so pensive.

"You like my daddy, right?" Scott asked, suddenly looking up at Jackson.

"Uh…" Jackson said, stomach twisting, "Yeah, Scott. I like him a lot."

Scott nodded his head.

"But you don't like my papa?" Scott asked.

"Uh… What?" Jackson asked.

"You seemed mad at papa earlier, and he didn't seem that happy either," Scott said, small hands twisting in his lap, "I thought maybe you didn't like him."

"Oh," Jackson said, "Well, it would be unfair for me to judge your papa, Scott, since I don't really know him that well. He is responsible for helping to create you, though, so I guess now that I'm thinking about it, I like him a whole lot."

"Sometimes…" Scott said, "Sometimes I think papa is a bad man."

Jackson's stomach twisted further than before. Scott's worry was definitely a conversation that needed a Stiles stamp of approval before continuing, but Scott clearly placed a lot of trust in Jackson to initiate the discussion.

"Why do you think that, bud?" Jackson asked, pulling Scott onto his lap.

"Remember how I told you my daddy has a bad hurt?" Scott asked, placing a small hand on Jackson's chest, "Like in here?"

"Yeah, I remember," Jackson said, nodding.

"I think my papa gave him the bad hurt," Scott said, brows furrowed in thought.

"Oh," Jackson said, still nodding, "Well, have you asked your daddy about the bad hurt?"

"No," Scott said, sighing, "He always says he is fine, but I know that sometimes he lies to me."

"That's tough," Jackson said, "But I really think you should try asking your daddy, even if he lies at first. Sometimes grown ups think they have to tell small lies to keep you safe, that's probably what your daddy is doing."

"Yeah," Scott said, large head nodding, "Thanks, Mr. Jack."

"Anytime, Scott," Jackson said, "You can always come to me. But remember that your daddy and papa love you very much, and they are the best people to talk to about these kinds of things. Especially bad hurts. They usually know how to fix those."

Before Scott could respond, the duo turned their heads at the sound of the doorbell being rung.

"That sounds like Uncle Rick!" Scott yelled, jumping down off of Jackson's lap.

* * *

Jackson assessed the Taylor Lautner look-alike sitting down at his kitchen table, Scott settled on the young werewolf's lap.

"So this is your famous teach, huh?" Rick asked Scott.

"Yup, Mr. Jack!" Scott yelled, face practically glowing from the wide grin on his face.

"What does Mr. Jack teach you, Scotty?" Rick asked.

"All kinds of things," Scott said, hands moving all about at lightning speed, "Like words, and arts and crafts, and like about animals. Sometimes math, too."

"Math, huh?" Rick asked, turning to Jackson, "What's 425 divided by five?"

"Eighty-five," Jackson said.

"Is that right?" Rick asked, head turning to Scott.

"I think so," Scott said, nodding.

"You don't know, you're only six," Rick said, laughing.

"So," Jackson said, feeling awkward with another, more grown, Hale sitting in his house, "Can I get you a coffee? Water maybe? A tea?"

"I'm good thanks," Rick said, shaking his head, "I didn't really stop by for a drink."

"What did you stop by for then?" Jackson asked, tension building in his legs and shoulders.

"Hey, Scotty," Rick said, "It's almost bedtime, why don't you go put your PJs on and brush your fangs."

"Okay," Scott said, stepping down from the Rick's lap, "Are you going to tuck me in after?"

"If you hurry," Rick said, "I don't want to bother Mr. Jack too much. Now go on, or I won't be able to tuck you in."

Jackson watched the interaction with a smile, but internally prepared for a difficult conversation ahead. Rick seemed to pause for a minute or two as he watched the kitchen door that Scott had exited from.

"I guess it's nice to meet you," Rick finally said, head turning back to Jackson, "I've been hearing a lot of things."

"All good I hope," Jackson said, hands moving nervously across the surface of the table.

"That depends on who's talking," Rick said, shrugging his shoulders, "But it seems you've really upset my eldest brother today."

"Look–" Jackson said, demeanor becoming defensive.

"Whoa," Jack said, raising his hands into the air followed by a large grin, "I didn't say that was a bad thing, in fact I love it. Probably more than Isaac does."

"Oh…" Jackson said, "Well… Happy I could help then?"

"Cool," Rick said, nodding, "I also wanted to meet the man Scott has chosen as his new Papa 2.0. I'm assuming that's what you are, since Derek bitches about you almost every day."

"I'm a friend to Stiles, not much more," Jackson said, shaking his head.

"Bullshit," Rick said, shaking his head, "You might not have a label just yet, but you're more than just a friend. Otherwise Scotty wouldn't be here tonight."

Jackson remained silent, but crossed his arms in front of his torso.

"Hey, man," Rick said, hands raised again, "I'm not saying that's a bad thing, I'm cool with you being a kanima. I just thought you should know that Derek won't let go of Stiles easily."

"Okay," Jackson said, nodding, "Noted."

"Stiles really likes them silent doesn't he?" Rick asked, "I should've practiced that more, I'm too much like Isaac, opinionated and loud."

"Excuse me?" Jackson asked.

"Three years ago, I won an arm wrestling contest against Cora, Isaac, and Laura for who got Stiles should anything… unfortunate happen to Derek," Rick said, face beaming back at Jackson.

"So, you won Stiles in an arm wrestling contest…" Jackson repeated.

"Hey!" Rick said, face slipping into a scowl, "Don't say it like that! I was thirteen at the time, it's kind of a big deal that I won."

Jackson stared blankly back at Rick.

"Well, whatever," Rick said, shaking his head, "It's not important. Point being, Stiles was set to be mine until you walked into the picture with your attractive face and that gun show."

"Rick," Jackson said, "This is by far the oddest conversation I've had with a Hale to date, and I've spoken with your mother."

"Welcome to the magic that is Hale," Rick said, grinning widely back at Jackson.

"Uncle Rick!" Scott yelled from somewhere outside the kitchen, "I'm ready!"

* * *

John looked down at the chair Stiles had previously occupied, which he had moved from to sit closer to Erica on the couch as she began crying for the third time since beginning her story. The blonde was currently sobbing into Stiles's shoulder, and the moment seemed too intimate for John to continue watching. Erica's heartbreaking story wasn't really for John, it was something only Stiles could relate to.

His focus was pulled down to the crevice of the chair, where Stiles's mobile phone rested. The device seemed to light up and vibrate with a new message.

After peering down at the text messages on the screen, John slipped the device into his pocket and stood up from his chair. Rage seemed to roar through his chest.

"Excuse me," John said through clenched teeth, though neither Erica or Stiles seemed to acknowledge him, "I'm just going to go visit the restroom, son."

Once he was out of the community space, John pulled out his own mobile phone and tapped on Talia Hale's contact.

"Talia," John said, "This is John. I think it's time that we discuss your son."


	11. Fool

John clenched his jaw out of frustration for what had to be the eighth time since he had began speaking with Talia on the phone. Leaning against an exterior wall of the Sexual Recovery Center, John shifted his gaze to the windows of the center's community room. Stiles hadn't seemed to notice John's absence just yet.

"Talia, I understand that you're an Alpha," John said, "And that means you're used to people bending over backwards for you, but it also means you speak in ultimatums. So, here's one for you – you can speak with Derek now about your history with Isaac's father, or you can let him find out in court, while he's being cross-examined."

"John–" Talia said.

"No, Talia," John said, "I've kept my foot out of my son's relationship for far too long, and your son has made me realize that tonight. Derek is sending texts to my son threatening to pursue full parental custody, and we both know that's not what Derek really wants. He's trying to drive Stiles back to him out of fear of losing Scott, but I won't let that happen either."

"John, Derek has some very strong objections to his son's relationship with Jackson Whittemore," Talia said, "Surely you can understand that as a father–"

"I understand that Derek's objections are some bullshit specist ideologies that _you_ fed him, Talia," John said, "Correct him quickly, or I will."

"But, John, surely you can see that Scott would receive more support living with the Hales, both you and Stiles spend most of your days at the station," Talia said.

"Which Hales are you referring to, Talia?" John asked, "Your three children that have already moved out to avoid Derek, or Rick who spends at least an hour at the station every day after school?"

"You can't expect me to–" Talia said.

"I expect you to be a parent," John said, "Which sometimes means supporting your child by pointing out his errors. Derek is not the wronged party here, and the faster the both of you figure that out, the better off our two families will be."

"I need more time, John," Talia said, voice wavering, "Derek is just filled with so much anger, it's difficult to reason with him right now."

"That's because you've indulged his insolence, Talia," John said, "That's your own spilled milk to cleanup."

John waited as Talia remained silent for several seconds.

"Fine," Talia said, "Under one condition. Stiles will not pursue or further a romantic relationship with Jackson Whittemore."

"Talia," John said, snorting, "Even if I could, Jackson is the last man I would ask Stiles to step away from. And if you paid any attention to your grandson, you wouldn't either. Your and Derek's attempts to control my son end here and now. It's time you both face reality, Derek needs professional counseling, and that's not going to be a condition of Stiles performing some idiotic sense of duty to your family."

"But what about Isaac?" Talia asked, voice trembling from either anger or fear, John wasn't sure which.

"Isaac has already moved out of your house, Talia," John said, "Whatever support he needs following your conversation with Derek will come from Stiles, Scott, and me."

John watched as Stiles approached one of the windows in front of him, a look of concern on his face. John raised a finger to indicate that he needed one minute.

"John–" Talia said.

"This is not up for debate, Talia," John said, "Derek will immediately sign the divorce papers I delivered to him, and he will _not_ pursue full custody of Scott. I think you're forgetting that you also don't want our sons' issues argued in court, since I doubt you're prepared to face the full number of extramarital affairs Derek has had. And I'll be damned if Stiles has to face that count as well."

"I'll see what I can do," Talia said.

"You do that," John said, "And you might also want to explain your behavior to Stiles, I think it would help him understand that your hostility has not been a result of his own actions."

The only response John received was the clicking sound of the call being disconnected.

* * *

Stiles released a deep sigh as he settled into the passenger seat of the Sheriff's patrol car.

"Everything you expected it to be, son?" his father asked, pulling the car out of the parking spot.

"That's an understatement, Pops," Stiles said, watching from the window as the center grew further away, "I'm glad we did this though."

"Good," his father said, "I was worried this might be a mistake."

"Well," Stiles said, "It definitely affirmed some of my concerns, but… This is going to sound weird, okay? It's just that… I feel kind of less... alone?"

"Oh," his father said.

"I mean, I know I'm never alone," Stiles said quickly, "Not really alone. But before today, I felt kind of like I was drowning in my own problems. It was hard to breathe or focus. I felt like a shitty father."

"Stiles, you are not a poor father–" his father said.

"I know, Pops, I know," Stiles said, "But you can't always control your feelings. I related to Erica's story a lot – even though I'm not in the exact same position as her. It gave me hope, hope that maybe there's something I can do to help Derek. To give my son back his papa, even if it's not in the same capacity as before. That's a big deal for me. For both of us."

"Yeah, son," his father said, "That's good."

"I'm just worried now that Derek won't be open to seeking help," Stiles said.

"We'll have to wait and see," his father said, "You can't discount Derek just yet, I have a feeling he might be coming around here pretty soon."

"I hope so, Pops," Stiles said, digging his hands into the pockets of his pants, "Hey, did you grab my phone on our way out? I don't seem to have it."

"Uh… Yeah," his father said, "I did grab it."

"Will you hand it to me?" Stiles asked, stretching a hand out, "I want to call Danny to see if there's something I can do to help Erica. I may not get my happy ending after all this, but she seemed to really understand the depth of the pain caused in her relationships. I would kill for Derek to comprehend that."

"Sure," his father said, "But I think we need to discuss Derek first."

"Okay…" Stiles said, uncertain where his father was directing the conversation.

"While you were busy with Erica, I noticed that your phone kept buzzing with new messages from Derek," his father said.

"Oh," Stiles said, "Did you read them?"

Stiles watched as his father's face pulled into a slight cringe.

"Unfortunately I did, son," his father said, "But only because there were so many, and the phone kept vibrating."

"Okay, so I assume that's why you still have my phone," Stiles said, "What did he say?"

"I don't want you to freak out about this, son," his father said, "So just try to remain calm–"

"Dad, just tell me what he wanted, you're freaking me out more by delaying," Stiles said, stomach already twisting from the look of discomfort on his father's face.

"Well, it seems that Derek ran into Jackson and Scott this afternoon," his father said, "And now Derek is threatening to seek full custody in the divorce proceedings."

"What?!" Stiles yelled.

"But it won't happen, Stiles," John said, briefly looking away from the road to lock eyes with Stiles, "There's not a judge in the county that would award Scott to Derek over you."

"We don't know that for sure, dad!" Stiles said.

"Well, that's why I stepped outside to speak with Talia," his father said.

"You did what?!" Stiles yelled.

"I know it was a bit of an overstep, Stiles," his father said, "But someone needs to reason with Derek, and trust me, it has to be Talia."

"Talia has hated me since we announced our separation, dad," Stiles said, "She blames me for ending our relationship. You're insane if you think she's going to help me, not to mention that Derek is her golden child."

"Stiles," his father said, turning to make eye contact again, "Trust me, Talia doesn't want a messy court proceeding anymore than we do. She will talk with Derek. You don't need to worry about that."

Stiles bit nervously on his bottom lip. There was simply no way Talia would help him. Pigs would fly before Talia assisted him in leaving her son, especially when she equated that to taking away her grandson.

Another twist of anxiety ran through Stiles at the thought of Scott, who was with Jackson, the pair alone against the Hales.

"I need to see Scott before Derek does something stupid," Stiles said, "How quickly can you get us home?"

* * *

Jackson squinted in the dark hallway leading to the front door of his house. An incessant pounding on the door had roused Jackson from his bed. At first he had thought it had just been the thunder of the storm outside, but the haste and nearness of the knocking forced him out of his warm bed.

He was surprised that Scott hadn't also been woken yet, but maybe the little boy thought it was just the storm, too.

"Coming," Jackson said, half stumbling into the right wall, a flash of lightning helping him to see the path in front of him, "I'm coming."

The pounding stopped just as Jackson reached the front door, hand set to undo the two locks. As Jackson opened the door, he realized that he probably should have been more cautious about who was behind the door before opening it.

The fresh scent and whirl of pouring rain filled his senses. He raised a hand to rub sleep from his right eye as he focused on the person in front of him.

"Stiles?" Jackson asked.

* * *

Stiles assessed the heavy-eyed Jackson in front of him. Wearing only a pair of pajama pants that looked soft from wear, the man's chest and feet were bare. The usual artfully-crafted wave of his hair was arranged in various directions.

He looked warm and comforting, something Stiles had been missing for a while now. And the slight bulge in the man's bicep as he lifted his arm to touch his eye was more noticeable than Stiles would have liked.

The whole image was distracting Stiles from the reason he was there – Scott.

"Stiles?" Jackson asked, voice still dazed from sleep.

_"Fuck,"_ Stiles thought.

"Scott," Stiles choked out.

"What?" Jackson asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

"Scott," Stiles repeated, mind still frantic with worry, despite the distraction that was Jackson Whittemore, "I need to see Scott. Is Scott still here?"

"Stiles, calm down," Jackson said, reaching out both hands to grab onto Stiles, pulling him into the house, "Are you okay? Why are you here at this hour? I thought you said you wouldn't be back in town until tomorrow."

"I know," Stiles said, trying to explain to Jackson why he needed to see Scott right now, "But you ran into Derek, or Derek ran into you. He wants to take him from me, Jackson. I just needed to be sure. I need to see him right now."

"Okay," Jackson said, nodding, "Okay, let's go check on him. I can sense him here though, you know. He's knocked out, I'm pretty sure the little guy is blocking all of his senses to ignore the storm. We wore ourselves out after school."

Stiles followed Jackson up to the second floor, where Jackson stopped quickly at a door just off the landing. Jackson slowly opened the door for Stiles.

"See?" Jackson asked, nodding at a still sleeping Scott, "He's fine, Stiles. I wouldn't let anything happen to him."

Stiles let loose a deep breath at finally seeing Scott in front of him. It was difficult to tell which limb was which, as the little boy tended to octopus himself across any surface he was sleeping on, but the large dark head and light pattern of snoring were unmistakable. Scott was fine.

"Okay," Stiles said, nodding, "Okay, I'm sorry I ran over here like this. I was just worried. I didn't…"

Stiles looked down at his feet, noticing that he had left a trail of rain water on the hardwood floors, which he was still dripping on.

"Christ, Jackson," Stiles said, raising a hand to cover his face, "I'm really sorry. I woke you up, and I've made a mess of your floor – I don't know what to say."

"Hey," Jackson said, lifting Stiles's hand away from his face, "It's okay, you were worried about your kid, I get that."

Stiles snorted.

"No, really, I do," Jackson said, nodding, "I may not really be a father, but I worry about the kids at my school. And I can sympathize with your situation, even if I can't exactly empathize."

Stiles remained silent but made eye contact with Jackson.

"We did run into Derek," Jackson said, "But it was fine, he said some words, I said some words, and we went our separate ways. No big deal."

"Jackson," Stiles groaned, "I'm really sorry, this isn't your mess to handle."

"A little mess never hurt anybody," Jackson said, shrugging his shoulders.

Shoulders which, Stiles noticed for the second time, were bare. Stiles looked left to avoid a lingering gaze, but he landed on the bed peeking out of the open door across the hall. A little wrinkled and unmade from sleep, it looked just as welcoming as Jackson did right now.

"Are you okay?" Jackson asked, hand reaching up to force Stiles to look back at him.

Stiles was not okay. The rollercoaster that had been his visit with Erica was nothing compared to the stress of thinking Derek might have decided to take Scott from Jackson while Stiles was away. He was cold from being wet and tired from driving most of the day. He wanted to wrap himself up in something warm and just call it a day. And Jackson looked pretty warm.

"Stiles?" Jackson asked again, brow furrowing with worry.

That was the final straw for Stiles. The sincerity of the concern on Jackson's face was simply too much for Stiles to continue resisting. Day 1, Stiles 0. Stiles could admit it – this day had kicked his ass, and he wanted to forget about it. Anyone would.

Stiles reached a hand out to rest on the back of Jackson's neck, and he pushed himself forward until his lips met Jackson's. Once the man seemed less startled, strong arms wrapping around Stiles, Stiles licked into the other man's mouth, exploring the taste and texture.

Day over, Stiles 0, but at least he had found a little warmth and comfort at the end.


	12. Murmur

In response to Stiles's use of his own body to press Jackson down onto the bed glimpsed from the hallway, Jackson released something like a cry of disbelief but also a moan of desire. The sound swept a wave of pleasure through Stiles, forcing a grin onto his face that interrupted their kiss.

Stiles moved further down to lick across the slope of Jackson's neck, pushing back the memories of Derek that had taught him to enjoy that particular act. The outside thunder seemed to shake the room, helping to both distract Stiles from Derek and heighten the emotion of the room.

"Stiles," Jackson said, eyes closed when Stiles bothered to look upward again.

"Hmm," Stiles murmured, electing to explore Jackson's right shoulder.

"Stiles," Jackson said, moving both hands up to grab hold of Stiles's own shoulders.

Stiles bit lightly down on the muscle in front of him.

"Shit," Jackson whispered.

Stiles moved up to grin down at Jackson, but the man seemed to take a moment to breathe. Stiles released a startled sound when Jackson used his own body to flip the pair over.

"Stiles," Jackson said again, "I _really_ think we should stop right now. I'm not sure you're thinking straight."

"Nope," Stiles said, rolling his pelvis forward against Jackson's own, "I'm really not, what do you think we should do about that?"

"Christ," Jackson whispered, "Stiles, please…"

"Please what?" Stiles asked, "I can do anything you want, or I can start with my own wish list."

"Wish list?" Jackson asked, resting on his thighs and capturing Stiles's exploring hands.

"Mhmm," Stiles said, offering a shy smile despite the pool of blood rushing to his face, "God, you turn me on – in so many ways, for so many reasons. I've got a number of fantasies involving you."

"Fantasies?" Jackson squeaked.

"I blame your ties really," Stiles said, nodding, "I don't remember a single one of my school teachers wearing a tie. Stuffy professors, yes. But teachers, no. I would _love_ to help you with your ties, Mr. Whittemore. Do you need help with your ties, sir?"

"Fuck," Jackson whispered, closing his eyes again.

"Yes," Stiles said, loosening a hand from Jackson's grip to explore more of the man's displayed body.

"Stiles, no," Jackson said, grabbing hold of the freed hand, "I really think we should just sleep on this. See if you feel differently in the morning, you know?"

"Whoa," Stiles said, smirking as he pushed dramatically back in response to the jump that had just come from Jackson's pants, "Was that a second to the motion, or does Reptar object?"

"Uh…" Jackson said, face flushing red, "Wait… Reptar?"

"Yeah," Stiles said, chuckling, "Remember wearing my pajama pants? He kind of stood out. Thank god, Scott hadn't notic… Oh."

"Yeah," Jackson said, nodding seriously, "Scott. Another reason I think we should put this on pause for tonight."

"Fuck," Stiles said, closing his eyes, "I've just screwed everything up, haven't I?"

"No!" Jackson said, releasing Stiles's hands to gently clutch Stiles's face, "Nothing's been messed up, this has been so good, Stiles. I _really_ don't want to stop right now, but I think we _should_, just until we can figure a few things out with clear minds."

"I'm sorry, Jackson," Stiles said, looking down to break eye contact with the other man, "I shouldn't have–"

Jackson interrupted Stiles by leaning down for a brief kiss.

"No more apologies," Jackson said, face just a few inches away now, "I'm glad you finally made a move, I've been waiting for your say so, baby. I'm ready to do whatever you want to do, so long as it's not an impulse decision. I don't ever want to be an impulse decision to you."

"Okay," Stiles said, releasing a deep breath while nodding and starting to shift out from underneath Jackson, "I'll just go join Scott in the guest room, we can talk more in the morning."

"Nuh-uh," Jackson said, pulling Stiles back while shaking his head, "I never said anything about you leaving this bed. I mean… So long as you're comfortable just sleeping here with me?"

"Yeah," Stiles said, nodding again, "I would like that."

A dopey grin spread across Jackson's face as the man laid himself down beside Stiles, quickly pulling the comforter over the pair.

As a muscled arm crossed over Stiles's torso, pulling his back against Jackson's chest, Stiles felt his own face shift into a matching grin.

* * *

Once again, Stiles woke begrudgingly to the world. Without opening his eyes, he threw a pillow over his head to block out the sunlight surrounding him. He felt like something had woken him, but he couldn't recall what. Stiles just had that feeling that waking up had definitely _not_ been his idea.

"Daddy," a small voice said.

Oh, yeah. That seemed right, Scott's voice had definitely been the culprit.

"Who?" Stiles asked, voice muffled from beneath the pillow.

"Daddy!" Scott repeated, small hand reaching under the pillow to push it away from Stiles's face.

"I don't seen any daddy's here," Stiles said, slowly opening his eyes and remembering whose bedroom he was in, "But I do see a sleep stealer."

"Daddy, no," Scott said, eyes widening in response.

"I'm afraid so," Stiles said, nodding and slowly reaching an arm behind Scott's small frame before quickly grabbing hold of the little boy and pulling him closer, "And I think I just caught him!"

"No, daddy!" Scott cried in between laughs, "I'm not a sleep stealer, you were just taking too long to wake up!"

"An admission of guilt!" Stiles yelled, moving his hands all around to tickle Scott, "I knew you were the sleep stealer!"

"Help!" Scott yelled, losing his breath from laughter, "Mr. Jack! Grandpa! Help me!"

"Grandpa?" Stiles asked, putting the tickle attack on pause, "Is Grandpa here, Scotty?"

"I sure am," Stiles's father said, leaning against the open bedroom door.

"Gramps, quick," Scott said, moving away from Stiles and off the bed, "Save me!"

"I think you just saved yourself, bud," his father said chuckling, "Why don't you go check in with Mr. Jack downstairs? I'm pretty sure I smelled pancakes when I walked through, and I think I saw a stack of fresh blueberries sitting on the counter."

"Mr. Jack!" Scott yelled, running out of the bedroom, "Are you making blueberry pancakes?"

Alone with his father, Stiles rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck after realizing he had not originally intended to stay at Jackson's house.

"Hey, Pops," Stiles said, "I'm sorry I didn't call earlier to let you know I was going to stay here. I guess you probably have some questions about finding me here in Jackson's bed – actually, how _did_ you find me here?"

"Jackson called me," his father said, crossing his arms in front of his torso, "And you bet your ass I have some questions right now."

"All right," Stiles said, nodding his head seriously, "I'm ready."

"Have you slept with him, yet?" his father asked.

"Excuse me?!" Stiles asked, eyes widening at his father's remark.

"Well, have you?" his father asked, face entirely too excited for Stiles given the subject matter, "Please tell me that you – as Isaac once referred to it – 'sealed the deal'. This one is a keeper, Stiles, I'm not missing my opportunity to vote this time."

"What?" Stiles asked, face morphing into a mixture of confusion and horror.

"You know what," his father said, nodding his head, "It's okay if you took it slow last night, I'm here to collect Scotty so that you two can discuss your future relationship. It is a relationship, right, son? Please tell me you're at least entering a relationship here."

"Uh… Yeah, dad," Stiles said, slowly nodding his head, "I think we are."

"Wonderful," his father said, face practically beaming, "Then Scotty and I are going to grab some blueberry pancakes, and we'll be ready to say goodbye once you've showered and gotten dressed. Maybe you should borrow some of his clothes, that would be a clear message of intent when you come downstairs."

"Dad!" Stiles said, covering his face with his hands, "Please stop! You're embarrassing me."

"Okay, okay," his father said, chuckling again, "Hurry up and get dressed then. Remember that the longer you take, the more time I have alone with Jackson – you know what, take your time. I might be able to initiate a verbal contract while you're in the shower."

"Dad… Dad! Pops!" Stiles yelled, watching in continued horror as his father walked away from the bedroom door, "Dad, come back here!"


	13. Edge

Jackson quirked an eyebrow in amusement as he watched Stiles stop at the last step on the stairway leading into the kitchen. The man seemed to be communicating silently via his eyebrows with Sheriff Stilinski, who was nearly finished sharing a plate of pancakes with Scott at the kitchen table.

"Are you just going to stand there all day, son?" the Sheriff asked, smirk firmly planted on his face.

Jackson resisted the urge to chuckle. He hadn't heard the entire conversation upstairs between the pair, but he had definitely heard a suggestion that Stiles _seal the deal_, and something about borrowing Jackson's clothing.

Jackson had liked that suggestion, Stiles could borrow whatever he wanted. Jackson even had a few pieces in mind already, maybe he could add those to Stiles's fantasy list.

"Hey, baby," Stiles said, stepping into the kitchen and leaning down to press a kiss on top of Scott's head, "How did you sleep last night?"

In between pancake bites, Scott seemed to mutter something close to positive, since Stiles just seemed to accept whatever Scott was trying to communicate with a nod of his head. The situation was entirely intriguing to Jackson, as Scott barely took more than half a bite at a time of food during lunch at school, usually too busy telling a lizard story to – or asking for fox stories from – Kira.

"When did you get here, daddy?" Scott asked, a dramatic swallow finally flattening out his former chipmunk cheeks.

"Er… Late last night, bud," Stiles said, eyes widening and gaze turning quickly to Jackson, "I came to check on you, and Mr. Jack offered to let me stay because of the storm."

"Mr. Jack is awesome," Scott said, face beaming while nodding.

"I agree, Scotty," the Sheriff said, also nodding, "Super awesome. Definitely too good to give up, don't you think so, Stiles?"

"Uh…" Stiles said, mouth hanging open in uncertainty paired with a growing blush.

"So, do you guys have big plans today?" Jackson asked, offering a small wink to Stiles.

"I don't know," the Sheriff said, taking a moment to think seriously before turning to Scott, "What do you think Scotty, what should we do this afternoon?"

"Hmm," Scott said, small eyebrows turning down and bottom lip quirking in thought, "Something fun. With… Lizards!"

"Definitely something fun, and maybe lizards if I can find any," the Sheriff said, nodding, "Hey, I bet Uncle Isaac would know something fun and potentially lizard-adjacent for us to do today."

"Yeah!" Scott said.

With a small smile, Stiles rolled his eyes toward Jackson. He stood up to wet a paper towel at the sink, leaning over the table to wipe Scott's face and hands clean.

"I'm surprised you didn't turn into a blueberry," Stiles said, "Your whole mouth is blue, bud."

"Cool," Scott said, offering a wide blue grin to the room, "Mr. Jack, you should try making _green_ pancakes, daddy made them once after I begged a whole lot."

"Green, huh?" Jackson asked, raising an eyebrow at Stiles.

"Yes, green," Stiles said, nodding, "But then we ended up with lime green hands, which we decided wasn't really worth it, remember, Scotty?"

"That made it specially worth it," Scott whispered to the Sheriff.

"I know, pal," the Sheriff said, chuckling, "I know."

Stiles shook his head as he began collecting the dirty dishes from the table.

"Well, boys," the Sheriff said, standing up, "Is there anything we can do for you before we head out to find Uncle Isaac?"

"I think we're good, sir," Jackson said, looking to Stiles for confirmation.

"We're good, Pops," Stiles said, nodding.

"All right," the Sheriff said, extending a hand for Jackson to shake, "Jackson, thank you for looking after my boys last night."

"It was a pleasure, sir," Jackson said, "I definitely appreciated their company during that storm last night, I'm usually all alone."

"I didn't even hear the storm," Scott said, almost tripping over his feet as he jumped down from his chair.

"We know, bud," Stiles said, helping to right Scott on his feet.

"Well, maybe that will change soon, Jackson," the Sheriff said, offering another message communicated via eyebrows to Stiles while grabbing hold of his grandson's hand.

"Gramps," Scott said, shaking the Sheriff's hand, "Let's go before Uncle Isaac is busy, he's probably doing something fun already."

"Yeah, yeah," the Sheriff said, smiling, "Don't worry about seeing us out, boys, I'm sure you two have better things to… _discuss_."

"Oh my, God," Stiles whispered, raising a hand to his temple and biting nervously on his bottom lip.

Jackson simply chuckled at the Sheriff's obvious antics, clearly the man was ready for Stiles to find a new chapter in life. Jackson was open to being that chapter, and it seemed like Stiles might be too after last night.

"Bye, Pops," Stiles called out, "Bye, Scotty, be a good boy for Grandpa and Uncle Isaac, you hear me?"

"Bye, daddy," Scott yelled, large head already mostly out of sight.

Jackson watched the kitchen doorway until he heard the front door open and close, and then he turned to Stiles with a large grin on his face.

"What?" Stiles asked, face uncertain.

"What, what?" Jackson asked.

"What's with that goofy face you're making right now?" Stiles asked, right hand gesturing wildly at Jackson's face and backing up as Jackson walked toward him.

"You don't like my face?" Jackson asked, smirking as Stiles's back hit the kitchen counter.

"Oh, God," Stiles said, face pooling with blood.

Jackson chuckled as he crouched down to quickly throw Stiles over his shoulder.

"Hey!" Stiles yelled, hands gripping onto the back of Jackson's thighs for support.

"I didn't actually get to wake up _with_ you in my bed," Jackson said, already climbing the stairs, "You were definitely there, but you weren't awake, too. There were no cuddles, and the only kiss I received was from your father when I handed a plate of warm pancakes over, so I vote we remedy that. And maybe we can continue last night's conversation when we wake up."

"That…" Stiles said, seeming to relax against Jackson, "Sounds okay. I think we can definitely achieve that."

"Awesome," Jackson said, walking back into his bedroom and gently setting Stiles down onto the bed.

* * *

John grinned at the sight of blue lips caught in his rear view mirror. He took his eyes off the road briefly to glance back at Scott in the backseat of the patrol car.

"How you doing back there, criminal?" John asked.

"Do you think Uncle Isaac would be disappointed if we started our fun activities off with a nap, Grandpa?" Scott asked, eyelids already looking heavy.

"I'm pretty sure Isaacs don't know how to start the day without a nap, bud," John said, resisting the urge to the laugh, "I think he could be convinced."

"Good, because breakfast wore me out," Scott said, small hand wiping at his mouth.

"Why's that?" John asked.

"I think I got too excited about finding daddy at Mr. Jack's house," Scott said, head dropping dramatically down onto the back of the seat.

"You did, huh?" John asked.

"Yeah," Scott said, nodding, "I told Mr. Jack that he needed to be friends with daddy, and it's finally working."

"Genius," John said, smiling into the rearview mirror, "You're a smart boy, Scotty."

"Thank you," Scott said.

"So you're okay with Mr. Jack and your daddy being close friends?" John asked, testing the water to see if Scott wanted to discuss why he found Stiles in Jackson's bed that morning.

"Yeah, it's great," Scott said, nodding as his eyes already started to close, "Mr. Jack is just awesome. And he's like a real lizard, which is awesome, so he's like double awesome. Daddy needs that, he's been kind of sad lately."

"Yeah, bud," John said, "I agree, your daddy could really use a new friend. What do you think about your daddy becoming super close friends with Mr. Jack? Kind of like how your papa is super close to your daddy?"

"Oh," Scott said, eyes opening.

"Oh?" John asked.

"Is that why daddy was in Mr. Jack's bed?" Scott asked.

"I think so, bud," John said, "What do you think about that?"

"I think…" Scott said, taking a moment to contemplate seriously, "I think that's okay. Daddy looked happy. His smile was real big this morning."

"Well, he's always happy when you're around, bud," John said, pulling into the Stilinski driveway where Isaac stood waiting, "You know that right?"

"Mhmm," Scott murmured.

John chuckled as he turned around to see Scott deflating into sleep.

"Our fun partner has requested a brief nap," John said as he stepped out of the car, "Which doesn't sound half bad right now."

"Cool," Isaac said, shrugging his shoulders and headed for the backseat to pick Scott up, "Aww, man, did you guys get blueberry pancakes without me?"

* * *

Laura released a deep sigh as she stared down at the contact lighting up her phone with an incoming call. She allowed herself a brief pause before accepting the call.

"Hey, mom," Laura said.

"Hey, honey," Talia said, "How are you doing?"

"I'm well," Laura said, stomach already twisting from her mother's first question – Talia did not do small talk unless she wanted something, and usually whatever she wanted was guaranteed to not be easy.

"Good, good," Talia said, "How's Cora?"

"She's well, too, mom," Laura said, "Is there something I can help you with? Sorry to rush you, I'm just in between errands right now."

"Actually, honey," Talia said, sounding fatigued, "I was wondering if you might be able to stop by the house this evening."

"Oh," Laura said, "Like for dinner? I can see if Jordan is available–"

"No," Talia said, "I mean, if you would like, but really I have something to discuss with you and Derek."

"Okay…" Laura said, "This is sounding very ominous. Is everything all right?"

"It's fine," Talia said, voice breaking, "It's just a little family history I think we need to clear up to help move us forward given Derek's recent relationship issues."

"Mom, are you crying?" Laura asked.

"Can you make it, honey?" Talia asked, "I could really use your support."

Laura bit nervously on her bottom lip, unsure if she was being asked to walk into something she might regret later. As an alpha, Talia typically maintained a strong front no matter the issue. Very rarely had Laura heard her mother cry like that.

Not to mention Derek would be involved, which was sure to be volatile. Laura had wondered in past years whether Derek might have benefited from some short or long term counseling, specifically anger management or some other emotional therapy. His history with Stiles at this point confirmed her previous suspicions.

"Laura?" Talia asked.

"Yeah, mom," Laura said, "I can make it. Should I bring Cora or Isaac, too?"

"No," Talia said, voice suddenly filled with relief, "I would like to speak with just you and Derek, as the eldest siblings. Isaac is actually picking Rick up this afternoon for some playtime with Scott, so we'll be alone."

"All right," Laura said, "What time should I be there?"

A wave of regret already filled her.


	14. Hunger

Derek woke with a startle, hands flying out to grab the body that had shifted his bed with its new weight.

Recognition flooded Derek's senses, making him pause. He knew that smooth touch, surface just slightly raised from a spattering of moles. And he knew that scent, a little smokey but still sweet. And he definitely knew every angle of that body, lean lines highlighted by the lightning flashing through the room.

"Stiles?" Derek asked, voice almost lost in the thunder of the storm outside.

"Shh," Stiles said, leaning forward to lick into Derek's mouth, "I can't do this anymore. I want you, Derek. Scott and I need you. I was wrong to try and separate us, and I see that now. We belong to you."

"Stiles–" Derek said, head and heart suddenly swimming in elation.

"No," Stiles said, shaking his head and pushing Derek back down onto the mattress, "I'm sorry, Derek. And I forgive you for the past, we both made mistakes. We can work it out though, I want us to work it out. Please say we can work it out."

Derek tracked the nervous lick across Stiles's bottom lip, followed by Stiles's right hand that seemed to be moving increasingly lower down Derek's body. It was all too distracting for words. Derek had been waiting to return to this for more than a year now.

"Cat got your tongue, baby?" Stiles asked, a small smirking forming on his lips, "That's okay, I've got one for both of us."

"Uh–" Derek slurred out, as Stiles's hand reached the hem of Derek's increasingly tight shorts.

Stiles pulled the shorts down and grasped Derek's length.

"Fuck," Derek whispered.

A flash of lightning briefly illuminated Stiles's frame above him.

"I know this is kind of–" Stiles said, shaking his head, "It doesn't matter. I think I need to stop talking, because I'm not sure I know the words to express everything I'm feeling right now. So…"

Derek almost closed his eyes in euphoria when Stiles sank down onto him, but the sight was just too perfect to miss. He could have come like a rookie right there in that moment. The thunder only seemed to echo the power of what was happening.

"Fuck, baby," Derek whispered, still not trusting his own voice.

"You like that?" Stiles asked, pulling off to tug Derek's foreskin to the head.

"Mm," Derek whispered noncommittally.

"I asked," Stiles said, tugging on Derek's length again, "Do you like that?"

"Yes," Derek whispered, nodding vehemently, "Yes, baby, yes."

"Good," Stiles said, pushing between the foreskin and head with his tongue and rolling.

Derek _did_ close his eyes in that moment.

"You taste so good, baby," Stiles murmured, "I forgot how good."

"Did you hear me, baby?" Stiles asked, a hand reaching up to grasp Derek's face.

"What?" Derek asked, opening his eyes again.

Except Stiles was no longer in front of him, at least not on top of him. Derek was now watching Stiles topple Jackson Whittemore on the bed.

"You taste so good, Jackson," Stiles said, sinking down onto the kanima.

"So good for me, baby," Jackson whispered, hand tightening in Stiles's hair.

Derek woke with a roar, the sound filling the room, quickly joined by claws shredding the bedsheets and the rumble of the storm outside.

"Derek!" a voice called from outside his bedroom door, followed by a pounding on the door.

Derek recognized the voice as Laura.

"Derek, can you hear me?" Laura asked, "Wake up, asshole! I didn't drive all the way out here to have a conversation with just mom. We're waiting on you."

"Coming," Derek murmured, slowly getting out of bed, "Quit your bitching."

"Nice way to talk to your sister, douche," Laura said, followed by the sound of her retreating footsteps.

Derek needed to get Stiles back and away from that kanima. No one made him feel the way that Stiles made him feel – like the air was too thick to breathe and the ground too soft to walk. The world seemed to crackle with energy around him, and Derek's life was just stuck in slow-speed without him.

Stiles would be his again. Derek just needed to figure out a way to make that happen. Maybe he would give Uncle Peter a call after his mother's meeting.

* * *

Stiles opened his eyes only to find lean lines and tanned skin on display, just barely illuminated in the dim room. The man laying next to him had come to play a critical role in Stiles's dreams as of late, but waking up next to Jackson was something else entirely.

Both the sight and feel made Stiles want to skip a few steps in the development of their relationship, but there were two more important reasons Stiles would not be running for Go and collecting his $200: 1) Derek had yet to actually sign the divorce papers, and 2) Stiles wasn't quite ready to discuss the relationship with Scott.

Perhaps fortunately, the latter had somewhat been taken out of his hands when Scotty found Stiles sleeping in Jackson's bed that morning. That conversation was inevitable, and Stiles could only pray that Scott would remain open to the idea. Stiles wasn't sure he could commit to Jackson without Scott's support. Though if Scott were going to approve of Stiles seeking a new relationship with anyone right now, it probably would be Jackson – Scotty's lizard hero.

As for the former, Stiles's father seemed strangely certain that Derek would be signing a settlement sooner than later, but the man had yet to reveal _why_ he felt that way. The Sheriff was oddly calm in the face of Derek's threats to seek custody of Scotty, only offering something about having already spoken with Talia.

Stiles hadn't pestered the answer out of his father for that reason alone – the less Stiles had to do with Talia, the better.

"Hey," Jackson whispered, pulling Stiles out of his thoughts, a muscled arm already wrapped around Stiles and pulling their chests closer together.

"Hey," Stiles said, already feeling his face form a small smile.

"This," Jackson said, both hands traveling across the expanse of Stiles's own naked torso, "Is exactly the kind of wake up I had in mind when I brought you back up to my bed."

"Yeah?" Stiles asked, small smile turning into a large grin.

"Yeah," Jackson said, nodding seriously, "Much better than you rolled up in all my blankets on the other side of the bed and drooling onto my pillows."

"Pfft," Stiles said, lightly pushing against Jackson's chest with mock indignation.

Jackson grabbed hold of Stiles's offered hand and brought it quickly up to his mouth, placing small kisses on the palm and turning the hand over to make his way down the length of Stiles's arm.

"You should probably stop doing that," Stiles said, failing to pull his arm back.

"You want me to stop?" Jackson asked, offering a small smirk and a raised eyebrow to Stiles.

"No, but yes," Stiles said, nodding.

"All right," Jackson said, "I won't kiss your skin."

"You're doing that thing again," Stiles said, trying and failing again to pull his arm back.

"What thing?" Jackson asked, a grin and a smirk fighting for dominance over his face.

"That odd thing," Stiles said, using his other hand to indicate toward Jackson, "With your face."

"Oh," Jackson said, "That's because I've decided on a new course of action."

"This sounds like something I'm really not interested in," Stiles said, attempting to ignore the way that Jackson's shorts seemed to be tightening and throbbing against Stiles's own body, "Can you please tell Reptar that this is not the time for introductions?"

"Hmm," Jackson said, face morphing into one of deep thought, "I think you should tell him yourself."

"Jackson–" Stiles said, stopping as he watched in both awe and horror as Jackson licked the length of Stiles's forearm.

"Do you still want me to stop?" Jackson asked, smirk quickly returning to his face.

"Uh…" Stiles said, "Yes… Yes, I do. And – hey! Weren't you the one that said last night we shouldn't be doing all this?"

"Unfortunately," Jackson said, nodding his head and releasing a deep sigh, "But waking up here with you has clouded my head. I meant what I said earlier, this is a much more preferable way to wake up, though I'll still take you drooling over your absence any morning."

"I'm starting to forget why I want to be your boyfriend at all. I do _not_ drool… Much," Stiles said, trying to keep the blush rising on his face to a minimum.

Jackson's face suddenly became serious, and he grabbed hold of both Stiles's hands.

"You want to be my boyfriend?" Jackson asked, gaze intent on Stiles.

"Uh…" Stiles said, "Yeah, yeah I would like that very much."

"All right," Jackson said, a brilliant grin overcoming his face, "I would like that, too."

"There's just a few things we should probably discuss first," Stiles said, stomach starting to churn with the anxiety of how Jackson might react to the more difficult realities of dating Stiles.

Stiles's anxiety wasn't due to the idea that Jackson didn't realize those realities – the man had probably already considered each of them himself – but more so that the pair had never actually discussed them openly.

"You would like to wait for Scott's approval, yes?" Jackson asked, an eyebrow raising, "And maybe for Derek to agree to the divorce first."

"Uh… In an ideal world, yes to both of those," Stiles said, nodding, "But we've already sort of jumped the gun considering last night and our current situation."

"So…" Jackson said, face morphing into one of confusion, "What does that mean for us?"

"Well," Stiles said, "I think that means – if you agree – we're already in a relationship, but I would like to hold off on sex until I'm able to clarify Scotty's stance and have divorced Derek."

"I can accept that," Jackson said, nodding, "I'm not sure those are my favorite terms ever, primarily due to the sure to be long wait time, but I would like both of those areas tied up as well. Scott means a lot to me, and I don't want to lose favor with him. And I'd really rather not share you, so I agree. Where do I sign?"

"What?" Stiles asked.

"I'm ready to sign our deal," Jackson said, face ernest, "You lose Derek, I get you and Scott. Now I don't seem to have a pen around here, and no claws to draw blood, so how about I use my tongue?"

"Uh…" Stiles said, "I think you're forgetting an important clause to the contract."

"No sex until the divorce?" Jackson asked, large grin returning to his face, "I already agreed to that clause, I don't lick just anything to seal the deal, you know. Besides, you never said anything about no licking. I listened very carefully. Unless it's a kiss you want?"

"Uh…" Stiles said, unsure if he knew entirely what he was getting himself into.

"That must be it," Jackson said, nodding with the most enormous grin Stiles had ever seen – an impressive feat considering Scotty's rather large head.

Stiles failed to resist the urge to laugh in the middle of Jackson's official deal-sealing kiss.

"Putting that particular ego-boost aside," Jackson said with sarcasm, "I am open to retrying the official signing of our contract, but you have to initiate the kiss this time."

Stiles rolled his eyes, but he moved forward to lick into Jackson's mouth. As Jackson's arms enclosed around him, Stiles felt confident that he was once again finally doing something right in his life.

The rush and whirl of the wind and rain hitting the bedroom windows only added to the moment, nature's own symbolic response to Stiles's steps toward growth and revitalization.

* * *

Stiles released a deep sigh as he sank down into his own bed at the Stilinski house. It hadn't necessarily been a troubling day, but it had been an emotionally taxing one.

By the time Stiles had returned home, Scotty had already been put to bed by Stiles's father. Isaac was noticeably absent from the kitchen as Stiles shared with his father some of the details from his day with Jackson, the Sheriff seemingly happy to hear that Stiles was moving on.

When Stiles had questioned how his father thought Scotty might respond to Stiles dating Jackson, his father had responded with a guffaw. He assured Stiles that Scotty would welcome Jackson with open arms, and maybe a lizard themed welcome basket.

Stiles shook his head as he remembered having seen a small lizard pillow resting on Isaac's bed in the guest room, no doubt the early prototype of Scotty's Welcome-to-the-Stilinski-House effort.

The bedroom window rattled from the thunder above, pulling Stiles out of his thoughts and reminding him that the day's storm still hadn't let up.

Stiles turned on his side in an effort to refocus on sleep, but he paused at what he had thought was a knock on his bedroom door.

Just as Stiles was about to shake the knock off as one of those sounds old houses seem to make only in the night, it came again, followed by the slight opening of the door.

"Stiles?" Isaac asked.

Except Stiles detected a noticeable difference in Isaac's usually cheerful but dry voice, this one was watery.

"Isaac?" Stiles asked.

Isaac stepped into the room and closed the door. Stiles sat up to turn on the bedside lamp, quickly taking in the other man's drenched clothing and puffy red eyes.

"Isaac, what's wrong?" Stiles asked.

"I…" Isaac said, looking frantically around the room, "They… She… Stiles, I don't know where I belong."

Isaac rushed toward Stiles, thrusting his face into Stiles's neck before Stiles could respond. Stiles opened his arms to surround the beta, trying to offer what little comfort he could.

"Isaac, I don't understand what's wrong," Stiles said, "What do you mean you don't know where you belong?"

Isaac continued to shake with deep sobs muffled only by Stiles's shoulder and the storm raging outside.

The only other time Stiles had seen Isaac this upset had been in high school, when the Hales officially welcomed Isaac into their family, helping him escape from his abusive biological father.


	15. Scream

Stiles pushed Isaac back, running his hands over Isaac's cheeks to dry them from the wet tears.

"Isaac," Stiles said, moving to rub small circles into the man's back, "Come on, you belong here. With me, with Scotty, and with Pops. You're an honorary Stilinski. And you're a Hale. You belong with them, too. Did someone tell you that's not true?"

"No," Isaac finally offered, voice cracking, "No one that matters at least."

"Okay," Stiles said, nodding, "That's a start. What happened tonight? Dad said you left shortly after dinner. Where did you go?"

"I…" Isaac said, "I went to speak with Derek."

"Oh…" Stiles said, "Okay, well, that's okay. He's your brother, you know. That's not something you have to hide from us."

"That's not how he feels," Isaac said.

"Derek?" Stiles asked.

"Yes," Isaac said, pulling further away from Stiles to explain, wiping at his cheeks and focusing his breathing, "He told me I'm not his brother, that I would never… That I'll never be a real Hale, and some other cruel things."

"What?" Stiles asked, "Isaac, you know that's not true. I'm sorry if my divorce with Derek is interrupting your relationship with your family, I understand if you need to–"

"No, that's not it," Isaac said, shaking his head violently, "You're not the issue. Not at all."

"Oh, that's good… Maybe," Stiles said, "What's wrong then, Isaac?"

"How much did… You know when you were with him," Isaac said hesitantly, "How much did Derek tell you about my father?"

A sense of unease settled over Stiles. That was an uncomfortable history that was somewhat difficult for Stiles to remember, since it seemed so long ago.

What he could remember was that Isaac had been pulled into the Hale family shortly after moving to Beacon Hills. It had been Stiles's junior year of high school, and he and Derek had only just started seriously dating that past summer.

"Well," Stiles said, releasing an uncomfortable cough, "I gathered from the Hale family that your dad wasn't a very nice man. You confirmed that as we got to know each other better."

"That's an understatement," Isaac said, snorting, leaning into Stiles for support, "He was a… Monster. A real monster."

"I'm sorry, Isa–" Stiles said.

"That's not the point, Stiles," Isaac said, clutching onto Stiles's forearm, "He was a _real_ monster. I used to think that it was because of _what_ he was, but I'm starting to see that it wasn't the supernatural that made him that way. Someone, not something, made him that way. Someone awful and selfish."

"Isaac," Stiles said, shaking his head, "What are you saying? Your dad was supernatural? You were bit when you came into the Hale family, I was there that night. It almost killed you, you were laid up for weeks."

"It almost killed me because two supernatural forces were fighting for dominance over my mind and body," Isaac said, gaze becoming intent, "Stiles, my father wasn't just any supernatural creature, he was something I hadn't seen again until years later. When a new man moved into our town, despite the Hale's wishes."

Stiles felt an uncomfortable heat crawl throughout his body.

"Jackson?" Stiles asked, unsure whether he understood the full depth of the conversation being had.

"Yes," Isaac said, nodding, "My father was a kanima, and it wasn't until I met Jackson that I learned that wasn't necessarily a bad thing."

"Okay…" Stiles said, a brief sensation of relief giving way to more confusion, "That kind of explains how you… You know, you came to be."

"So he did tell you that part," Isaac said.

The beta's face quickly ran through a variety of emotions – anger, confusion, sadness, and then… nothing. Just no expression at all, which unsettled Stiles even more.

"Well," Stiles said, "Yes, and no. I asked after your siblings started referring to you as a step-brother. It confused me, because Talia hadn't been married previously – and that wouldn't have made sense anyways, both Derek and Laura are older than you, but Cora and Rick are younger, so it would've been somewhere in the middle."

"The step-brother title was a cruel title created by Derek that no one else seemed to recognize the hatred in, so it stuck," Isaac said, snorting, an ugly smirk forming on his face, "Adopted brother wasn't quite true, and no one wanted to say half-brother. That was too ugly. Too real."

"Isaac, maybe we should sleep on this–" Stiles said.

"Are you pushing me away, too?!" Isaac asked, starting to pull away from Stiles.

"No," Stiles said, grabbing onto Isaac's forearm, "No, Isaac, I'm not. I just think this is a little raw for you right now. I don't want to force you to retell a difficult part of your history when you're maybe not in the best emotional state."

"There is never going to be a good time or right emotion for this story, Stiles," Isaac said, face formed into a deep scowl.

Stiles felt the uneasy bubble build in his chest again, afraid for Isaac to continue the story, but also afraid for Isaac to leave. Fortunately, Isaac sat back down.

"Talia called a family meeting tonight," Isaac said, looking down at his lap, "Or, sort of. Really it was just her, Laura, and Derek. The two siblings that were aware enough to start asking questions when Talia _'rescued'_ me from my father. Quotes intended."

"You don't think she rescued you?" Stiles asked, an eyebrow quirked.

"Not anymore," Isaac said, looking back up at Stiles, "In fact, I think she ruined me. Just like she ruined him."

"Your father?" Stiles asked.

"And maybe Derek, too," Isaac whispered, nodding.

Stiles pulled Isaac in as tears began to well again in the beta's eyes. He waited for Isaac to feel comfortable enough to continue, rubbing circles into Isaac's back to help comfort him.

"Back then," Isaac said, "She told them – and me, I guess. She told us that she was my biological mother. Not news, right? She confirmed that again tonight."

"Okay," Stiles said, nodding.

"She also told us back then that she became pregnant with me after an attack," Isaac said, voice growing heat from anger, "But today, she took that back."

"What?" Stiles asked, pulling Isaac up to look him in the eyes.

"She took it back, Stiles," Isaac said, heavy tears now flowing down his cheeks, "She made it up. She said it was easier than the truth. She said she told them that in order to protect us – but she didn't, Stiles. She made that story up to protect herself. She had an affair with my father. With a _kanima_, the supernatural creatures that the Hales hate so much. Go figure, huh? Guess we know why they hate kanima now."

"Isaac," Stiles said, "I don't know what to say…"

"Me either," Isaac said, wiping at his cheeks and sniffling, "But Derek sure did. He stormed out of that house and called me. He wanted me to know what a sorry excuse I was for a Hale, and that I was a kanima hiding as a wolf. The son of a lecherous man that dared to seduce his mother. I don't think he saw the parallel Talia was probably trying to build in an effort to relate to him."

"Isaac," Stiles said, shaking his head, "That's not true, you're Isaac Hale. You're as much a wolf as any other Hale I know, and even if you weren't – even if you were a kanima, you'd still be the same Isaac that both Scotty and I love."

"I know," Isaac said, voice cracking, "I know that's true, but I just needed to be reminded. Derek's words kept repeating in my head. But I knew you wouldn't hate me, I knew he was wrong about that. And I told him so. I told him that you would accept me the same way that you did Jackson."

"Isaac…" Stiles said, heart breaking for Isaac, unsure what to say to help fix a problem he had no part in.

"I'm just glad you were here," Isaac said, shaking his head, "I was so surprised when I heard your heartbeat. I thought I was going to have to wait to speak to you in the morning, the Sheriff said you were spending the day with Jack–"

Stiles watched as a look of concern grew over Isaac's face.

"Isaac, what is it?" Stiles asked.

"I told him where you were," Isaac said, alarm growing in his eyes, "Or where I thought you were. With Jackson, I am so sorry Stiles."

"Oh, God," Stiles said, unease giving way to dread as he began to stand up from the bed.

"I just wanted to hurt him like he was hurting me," Isaac said, new tears forming, "I didn't mean it, Stiles, really! I'm so sorry!"

"It doesn't matter, Isaac," Stiles said, shaking his head while he threw on a jacket, "I need you to wake up my dad, okay? One of you call Jackson's house, I'm going to try his mobile phone."

"Okay," Isaac said, nodding and standing up quickly and following Stiles out of the room, "But you're not really going over there are you? Not without one of us?"

"Yes," Stiles said, already halfway down the stairs, "I need you to stay here with Scott. And wake up my dad, Isaac. Quickly!"

* * *

Jackson woke with a startle, sweat covering his body and eyes sweeping over the dark room in front of him. He looked for the source of the noise that had woken him – the sound of glass breaking.

Focusing his hearing on the rest of the house, Jackson waited in bed for several moments. Despite hearing nothing, Jackson decided it was best to get out of bed and walk through each room.

He made quick work of the small upper floor, detecting no one and nothing else that would have woken him. He then made his way down the stairs leading into the kitchen.

As he stepped off the last step and onto the kitchen's cool tile, a sharp pain shot through his heel.

"Fuck," Jackson said, lifting his foot up and finding a sliver of glass shimmering back at him in the dark.

Making his way over to the island to pull the glass out, Jackson looked about the room for its source. His suspicions were confirmed as he settled on the back door, noticing how the small window frame above the door's latch was busted in.

Jackson's heart began to increase in speed as he focused his hearing on the first floor again, but he quickly realized it was too late.

Jackson felt his body lifted up into the air and then slammed against the cabinetry behind the island.

Claws dug into the front of his chest, forcing him to scream out in pain.

"Why the fuck do you smell so much like Stiles, _kanima_?" the voice of Derek Hale asked.


	16. Smash

Jackson felt himself thrust up into the air again after being tossed out the front door, landing on the steps leading up to the porch. His ankle was shot to shit, and his back would be there soon if this fight continued much longer.

Though he supposed he should be thankful Derek wasn't trying to take the fight upstairs, given that the first floor of his house was completely in shambles.

"Not the car, man," Jackson said, wiggling in Derek's painful grip, "Derek, I swear to God, I will not be held responsible for my actions if you use my body to cause harm to that car."

As if in slow motion, Jackson watched an ugly smirk form on Derek's face – then he was moving, careening toward the front windshield of the car.

"Motherfucker," Jackson yelled, gritting his teeth as his face broke through the glass.

Jackson took a moment to shake through the pain, large and small shards falling off of him.

"All right," Jackson said, pushing himself up and away from the dashboard, "Sorry Scott, no more defense."

In an effort that was more stumble than agile, Jackson righted himself off the hood and onto the ground.

"Hey, asshole," Jackson said, lifting a palm up to his mouth to wiping away the blood, "Thanks for busting my lip. I guess I'll just have to suffer through the pain the next time I press my mouth against Stiles's."

Derek roared as he lunged toward Jackson.

Jackson readied himself for the assault, tail prepared to give back some of the serious damage Derek had dished out in the last fifteen minutes, except he never got the chance.

Derek fell to the ground mid-leap, right in front of Jackson's feet.

Jackson stared down at the alpha for a moment, extending his tail to not so gently prod the man.

"Derek?" Jackson asked.

"Sorry about that!" a male voice called from Jackson's left.

Jackson turned to see a middle aged man walking toward him, a smarmy smirk stretching across his face. The man looked more reptilian than any kanima Jackson had ever come across, there was only one word to describe him: slimy. Jackson immediately disliked the stranger.

"Excuse me?" Jackson asked, an eyebrow arched.

"So sorry," the man repeated, stopping still in front of Jackson and knocking Derek with his foot, "That's my nephew for you though – I think it's the eyebrows, they only increase his dramatics. I've been telling him to let Stiles shape them back a bit, but you know the saying..."

Jackson continued to stare silently at the stranger.

"Once an alpha, always an alpha," the man said, rolling his eyes, "I'm not even sure why they come equipped with ears. Peter Hale."

The man extended a hand toward Jackson to shake, which Jackson chose to ignore in favor of assessing him further.

"Right," Peter said, "Well, sorry about your... Everything. I'll just be collecting the little scamp now, better get him to bed before there's hell to pay in the morning. I'm sure Talia will be contacting you about repairs to the hous–"

"Hold on," Jackson said, stopping Peter from lifting Derek from the ground, "You're not taking him anywhere. I don't even know you, and I sure as hell don't know what the fuck you've dosed him with. Not to mention, he broke into my house and used my face to demolish it. This is a matter for the Sheriff."

"Oh, and look," Peter said, nodding behind Jackson, "There he is."

Jackson turned to see the bright headlights of the Sheriff's patrol car approaching the house. The car pulled onto Jackson's lawn, parking haphazardly, followed by Stiles falling out of the driver's side as the door was flung open.

"Jackson!" Stiles cried, running toward him.

"I'm all right," Jackson said, clutching onto Stiles's frame, Stiles's hands wrapping around his face, "It's fine, everything is fine. Is your dad with you? I think Derek and I could both use a visit to the hospital–"

Jackson paused as he turned around to show Derek to Stiles, realizing that both the alpha and Peter were gone.

* * *

Isaac chuckled at Scott's face scrunched into a frown in the dim light of the room.

"Uncle Isaac?" Scott asked, scowl slightly fading into an aggressive curious face.

It was at times like these that Isaac really saw Derek's own characteristics in the little boy, and every time he wondered what that was like for Stiles.

"Hey, bud," Isaac said, crawling onto Scott's bed, "Can I sleep here with you tonight?"

"Uncle Isaac," Scott said, scooting over to make room on the bed, "You're all wet."

"Yeah, I was outside," Isaac said, nodding as he laid down and wrapped an arm around Scott.

"Without a jacket?" Scott asked, eyes growing wide, "Daddy says that's bad."

"Your daddy is a smart man," Isaac said, chuckling.

Isaac felt a small hand fall on his left cheek.

"Your cheeks are really wet, too. And," Scott said, sniffing openly as he placed his other hand on Isaac's right cheek, "You smell sad. Like daddy."

"I was sad," Isaac said, nodding as he pushed Scott's hands down.

"Because of the rain?" Scott asked, pushing his pillow closer to Isaac's.

"No, bud," Isaac said, shaking his head, "Something else. But I did what you're supposed to do when you're sad, I went to someone that I love to help make it better."

"Who?" Scott asked, eyes widening again as he wiggled closer into Isaac.

"You obviously," Isaac said, smiling and lifting a hand to shake Scott's head.

"You're funny, Uncle Isaac," Scott said, smiling as his eyes started to droop closed, "But I'm glad you love me. I love you, too. Just like daddy, and papa, and grandpa, and Mr. Jack..."

Isaac watched in amusement as Scott's mouth started to fall open, a small amount of drool undoubtedly beginning to make its way toward Isaac's shirt.

Isaac let his head fall against his own pillow. His mind shifted back to worry, and he hoped that both Jackson and Stiles were okay. More importantly, he hoped that the Sheriff got there in time if they weren't.

And a minute part of him hoped that Derek was okay, too, but he ignored that whisper in his mind as he hunkered down to wait for Scott's uneven snoring pattern.

* * *

Peter huffed as he dragged Derek's limp body up to the trunk of his car.

"God, you're an idiot," Peter said, struggling under Derek's weight, "I ask you to do one fucking thing – wait. Just wait. Wait for me to get into town, but can you do that? No, of course not. Alpha's gotta prove he's got the sharpest claws in the forest. I don't understand what Stiles ever saw in you. Boy would've been better off with someone smarter, like me. Don't you agree?"

Peter paused his effort to angle Derek's head somewhat into the trunk to nod Derek's head up and down. With a smile, he turned to grab onto Derek's legs so that he could push his nephew further forward.

"Whoops," Peter said, cringing as he watched the trunk lid fall and then bounce off of Derek's forehead, "You're fine. Thick skull and all that."

Peter let loose a cry of success as he somehow managed to push Derek's body mostly into the trunk. Forcing the man's appendages further into the space so that the lid would close, Peter stepped back to admire the view.

"Sleep, stupid prince," Peter said before closing the lid.

"Now let's see if we can't correct some of your other idiocies before this family loses its most important member," Peter said, wiping his hands on his pants and moving toward the driver's seat.


	17. Swear

Stiles frowned as he stood in front of the vending machine in the emergency waiting room at the Beacon Hill's hospital.

He didn't really need any of the shit in the case – honestly, who did – he just wanted something to distract himself. Jackson had finally been admitted over an hour ago, but the doctor had asked Stiles to step out to the lobby as Jackson's overall physical health was assessed. Some bullshit about being worried how he might react to the supernatural inspection as a human.

"Stiles," his father said, placing a hand on the nape of his neck, "Melissa just informed me that Jackson is about to be released–"

"He is?" Stiles asked, moving away from the vending machine.

"Hey, now!" his father said, pulling Stiles back, "Jackson has the option of staying here overnight, but my guess is that you're both too thick skulled to agree to that."

Stiles stared silently back at his father.

"Right," his father said, nodding, "All right, well then I would like for both of you to head home immediately."

"Dad–" Stiles said.

"No, Stiles," his father said, shaking his head, "I want you home. We have no clue where either Derek or Peter are, what vehicle they're driving, or what idiotic plan they've come up with. Besides, Isaac just called me to say that Scotty's been asking for both you and Jackson."

Stiles stared silently down at his sneakers. Using Scott against him was a cheap shot.

"Come on, Stiles," his father said, sighing, "Just go home, and let the professionals do their job. We will find Derek."

"All right," Stiles said, nodding, "Fine. I won't go looking for Derek tonight."

"Or Peter," his father said, raising an eyebrow.

"I solemnly swear," Stiles said, raising his right hand into the air, "I will take my boyfriend home and make out with him on the couch while you're away, just like when I was a teenager."

"I'm actually on board with that plan for once," his father said, a wide grin growing on his face, "And there's your man now. Go get 'em, tiger!"

Stiles rolled his eyes as his father pushed him in the direction of Jackson entering the lobby.

"Hey," Jackson said, offering a small smile while rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Hey," Stiles said, stomach twisting with renewed guilt as he looked upon Jackson's injuries, "I just want to say one more time how sorry I am–"

Jackson interrupted Stiles's apology with a kiss to the mouth.

"Will you knock that off?" Jackson asked, pulling back with a brilliant white grin, "I already told you that none of this was your fault. Besides, I'm fine. Nothing a supernatural can't heal, all right?"

Stiles felt a heat creep into his face as Jackson pulled him closer.

"Although," Jackson said, a mischievous smirk growing, "There are a few things that you and I _could_ do to maybe jump start my healing abilities."

Stiles snorted, but clasped his hand with Jackson's.

"Let's go home, dork," Stiles said, grinning back at Jackson, "I think there's a little boy waiting to share some lime green bandaids with you."

"Score!" Jackson cried, swinging their entwined hands as he lead them out toward the parking lot.

* * *

Chuckling internally as he whistled the tune to "Peter and the Wolf", Peter stepped up to the trunk of his car parked behind the 7-Eleven.

"All right, nephew," Peter said, lifting his recently purchased slushie to his mouth, "Time to see if you're awake."

With a large slurp of the straw, Peter popped the trunk.

"Well, damn," Peter said, lowering his slushie as he stared into the empty trunk.

* * *

Rick settled down onto his mattress, eyes tired from staring at his chemistry book for too long. He really should have gone to bed earlier, and he could have if he had been able to ask Stiles for help tutoring.

But when he had called over to the Stilinski house earlier that night, no one answered the phone. He had tried texting Stiles a few times, but no response there either. He hadn't even gotten a notification that Stiles had read the messages.

Rick shook it off as a busy night wrestling Scott into a bath. Or bed. Or both.

Now came the more difficult decision of the night – masturbate, or go to sleep. He was leaning toward the latter, but it had been a while since the former.

Plus, he had a few images stocked up for that very intended use. Like when he had been out for a run earlier that week and came across Jackson Whittemore mowing the Stilinski's lawn. Stiles had been busy with the weed whacker, lean muscled arms expertly guiding the machine.

Rick about lost it when the pair paused for a laugh of some sort, Stiles placing a hand on Jackson's bicep. Did he mention that both men had been shirtless?

Decision made. He could always take a nap tomorrow to catch up on missed sleep.

Just as Rick started to reach down to release his tightening shorts, a light knock sounded against his bedroom window.

Rick sat up and turned to look at the window, watching as a hand knocked against the window pane again.

He stood up from the bed and walked over to the window, looking out to find none other than the long time missing, but frequent dinner table topic, Hale – Uncle Peter.

"Uncle Peter," Rick said, uncertain whether he should smile or frown at the man's presence.

Although, taking into consideration that Peter had arrived knocking at Rick's window and not the front door, he knew that he should probably be frowning.

"Well, let me in," Peter said, making a hurrying gesture with his hand.

"I would love to, Uncle Pete," Rick said, grinning back at the man, "But I was just about to take a little personal time, if you know what I mean."

Rick lifted his right hand to emphasize his point.

"God damn it, Rick," Peter said, scowling, "You can jerk off to Stiles when there are less pressing matters. That's what I do."

Rick rolled his eyes but unlocked and opened the window.

"Boner lost," Rick said, frowning, "Major negative cool uncle points. What's so important?"

"Well," Peter said, chuckling nervously, "I _might_ have administered just a _few_ wolfsbane tranquilizers to Derek, and then _maybe_ – just a _teeny tiny_ bit–"

"Get to the point, Uncle Peter," Rick said, crossing his arms over his torso.

"Lost him," Peter said, grinning widely back at Rick.

Rick let loose a deep sigh as he stared back at Peter.

"Hold on," Rick said, "Let me put some pants on."

* * *

Stiles smiled as he took in the two sleeping forms in front of him. Jackson was spread out across the couch cushions, two arms clad in neon green bandaids wrapped around the smaller bundle that was Scott curled into the man's chest.

An overwhelming sense of happiness settled in Stiles's chest. This was the calm he had been seeking for the better part of his eight years of marriage.

Moving as silently as possible, Stiles stood up from the couch to make his way upstairs. A hot shower sounded awesome right about now, after which he would collect Jackson and Scott for bed.

Everything was going to be okay.


	18. Mute

Stiles stepped out of the adjoining bathroom linking his room to Scott's, hot steam filtering into his own bedroom.

Pulling on the ties to tighten his robe, Stiles stopped in front of the full length mirror next to his dresser to assess the damage of the last twenty-four hours. These days, the dark circles were pretty standard, but the puffy and redness of his eyes weren't. He needed a haircut pretty badly, and some manscaping in general would probably be appreciated by Jackson.

It was while he was starting to evaluate his overall frame, turning in the mirror, that he noticed movement over his shoulder reflected in the mirror.

Heartbeat increasing, Stiles spun around to face the dark corner of his room, but found no one there. He released a sigh of relief and turned back to the mirror.

"Get a fucking grip, Stiles," Stiles said, shaking his head.

"I can help you with both of those things," a male voice said from behind him.

Strong arms encircled his torso, while a familiar scruff began rubbing gently up and down the back of his neck. Before Stiles could scream, Derek raised a hand to cover his mouth.

* * *

"Rick," Peter said, scowling down at the pink monstrosity in front of him, "I'm not getting on that."

"Well, I'm not getting in that creep-mobile you're driving around," Rick said, still holding Laura's old bicycle out to Peter, "Knowing you, it's not even really yours. Or some body is stashed back there in the trunk. The last thing I need right now is to make a bad impression with my future father-in-law, which is exactly what will happen when the Sheriff arrests us for possession of stolen property and/or a body!"

"All right!" Peter yelled, "But I'm not wearing the helmet. That's a disgrace to our kind, do you know how stupid you look wearing that? A supernatural that wears a helmet, Christ."

"Not all of us are voodoo dolls that can magic ourselves back from death, Uncle Pete," Rick said, fastening his helmet.

"Whatever," Peter said, rolling his eyes, "You're sure he's headed for the Stilinski house?"

"Positive," Rick said, nodding, "It's like, basic Idiot 101. Go to the last place you should ever be."

* * *

"I just want to talk, baby," Derek said, "It's been so long since it was just you and me. Let's not wake the others, okay?"

Stiles's mind began to race with the possibilities of both escape routes and what Derek might want. Although neither avenue seemed very fruitful for him – if he could just make enough noise to wake Jackson–

Stiles released a cry of pain into Derek's hand as the alpha pulled Stiles's robe back and bit into the muscle of his shoulder.

"That's for being so naughty lately," Derek whispered into his ear, "Was it good, baby? Was it good fucking that _kanima_?"

Despite his better judgement, Stiles pushed against Derek's grasp, trying to find any advantage out of the other man's grasp.

Derek's hand moved from Stiles's mouth to his throat, clenching just enough to make it difficult for him to breathe.

"Stop," Derek whispered, "I told you that I wanted to talk to you, so we're going to talk. Understand?"

Stiles mind seemed to freeze, though he did manage to nod when Derek's grasp on his throat became more painful. This situation was too fucked up for him anymore, and he didn't know if there was any positive outcome left for his family following Derek's recent actions. He wasn't sure he could make a sound even without Derek's help. He felt mute, trapped inside his own head.

Stiles's thoughts began to race again as he felt himself lifted up into the air and flung backward onto the bed, Derek's heavy weight settling on top of him.

For an uncomfortably long period, Derek seemed to stand still above Stiles, staring down at him. Stiles tried to find a trace of the man he had once loved in those hazel eyes, but all he found was the burning of anger.

"I suppose Isaac has told you already about the sick relationship my mother had with his father, a _kanima,_" Derek whispered, an ugly twisted frown forming on his face, "Would you believe that she tried to parallel her own perversions to our relationship, baby?"

Derek worked the front of Stiles's robe open, hands grasping painfully onto his arms.

"She said she understood what you and I were going through, because she had made mistakes, too," Derek whispered, face darkening, "You turned my own mother against me, Stiles. And isn't it just so poetic that Isaac – sweet, caring, bumbling after you, Isaac – turned out to be part kanima? You're gaining quite a little collection, baby. And I don't like that."

* * *

Blinking blearily, Scott sat up from Jackson's chest. Something had woken him up, but he didn't know what exactly. Something was different about the house.

Scott paused as he sniffed the air, suddenly recognizing what had woken him. He could smell his papa.

Working carefully off of both Jackson and the couch, Scott padded out of the living room in a search of his papa. Scott needed to let him know that grandpa was looking for him.

* * *

Stiles tried to focus his breathing and maintain a clear head in order to take advantage of any opening Derek might give him. He focused his attention back on Derek's words, the man's seemingly endless babble becoming coherent again.

"And do you know what the worst offense was, baby?" Derek asked, a hand ghosting over Stiles's throat.

Stiles shook his head, trying to show Derek that he cared about what the man was saying.

"My son walking around with lizard everything on, spouting off about his amazing _kanima_ teacher," Derek whispered with venom, "But you're done playing games now, aren't you?"

Stiles nodded his head, a familiar sense of unease creeping back into him.

"I thought so, baby," Derek whispered, leaning down to mouth gently at Stiles's jaw, a hand slipping down to Stiles's pelvis, "I'm going to help you remember what you've forgotten. Us, baby."

"Derek, no–" Stiles said.

"Shut up," Derek said, bringing his hand back up to Stiles's mouth, "You've done a lot of talking and doing lately, and it's my turn. Remember this, baby?"

Derek dragged one of Stiles's hands down to Derek's growing erection, seeming to enjoy the uptick of Stiles's heartbeat.

"You used to love this," Derek whispered, licking up Stiles's throat, "There were whole weekends you wouldn't do anything but lick, ride, and stroke my cock. Do you remember that?"

Stiles tried to plead through his eyes, begging for this moment to not be real – for Derek to stop. Stiles began twisting anyway possible to show Derek that he was not consenting to the other man's actions.

"Come on, baby," Derek said, "Don't play hard to get. I'm going to fuck you so well, you won't even remember that _kanima's_ name."

"Stop!" Stiles cried out, Derek's grasp on his throat loosening for a moment, "Stop, Derek!"

Derek manhandled Stiles up and then back down onto the mattress, a clawed hand quickly shredding through his robe.

"Stop fucking around, Stiles," Derek said, face twisting into something angry again, "You're mine, fucking act like it!"

"NO!" Stiles cried, hot tears sliding down his cheeks, kicking his legs out as Derek attempted to force himself in between them.

"Enough!" Derek yelled, bringing a hand down to backhand Stiles.

"Papa?" a small voice called from outside the room.

Derek paused immediately, and Stiles stared silently up at him.

"Papa?" Scott asked again, a small knock sounding on the door, "Grandpa is looking for you."

A strange look of surprise seemed to be dawning on Derek's face, as though he was only just now seeing the way he had Stiles held down against the mattress.

* * *

Jackson looked around the dim living room of the Stilinski's house, stretching his arms above him as he tried to figure out why he had woken up alone. He had fallen asleep with both Scott and Stiles wrapped around him.

Jackson paused as he heard Scott's small voice upstairs.

"Papa?" Scott asked.

Jackson rose from the couch and moved quickly toward the stairway.

* * *

Stiles stared up at Derek in confusion. Something was occurring that he didn't quite understand.

"Papa, you and daddy smell wrong," Scott said from outside the room, "Daddy smells scared."

"Stiles!" Jackson yelled, banging on the door, "Stiles, can you hear me? Derek, unlock this door!"

Stiles watched as Derek's face morphed slowly from surprise to horror. A single tear sliding down his right cheek.

Stiles heard Jackson ask Scott to head downstairs for a few minutes, followed by the pounding of two feet on the stairs and an excited cry of, "Uncle Rick!" and "Grandpa!".

"I'm sorry," Derek whispered, stumbling back from the bed and falling against the wall next to the door, "Oh, god. I'm so sorry."

Confused, Stiles watched Derek cave into himself on the floor. Derek's hands raised to cover his face, torso beginning to shake violently from sobbing.

A strange reverberation began to build in Stiles's ears, and he realized gradually that it was the sound of Jackson knocking down the door. He moved to cover himself up with the robe just before Jackson entered the room.

Stiles felt two hands grasp his shoulders, and then he seemed to be staring into Jackson's own face, but Stiles moved his head to look back at Derek on the floor.

"I'm okay," Stiles said, just trying to quiet the murmur of Jackson's questions, "I'm okay."

The hands on Stiles's shoulders began to shake him. Stiles looked up to understand what Jackson wanted, but instead found his father towering over him.

"Stiles!" his father yelled, eyes traveling up and down Stiles's body.

Stiles knew that his father was assessing the red handprints, the slap mark on his face, and the torn robe. He shook his head at his father.

"Not now," Stiles said, "Call Talia."

"Stiles–" his father said.

"_Call_ Talia," Stiles repeated.

The anger spread across the Sheriff's face began to mix with confusion, but the hands grasping Stiles's shoulders fell away.

"May I help you get dressed?" Jackson asked, stepping forward to help Stiles off of the bed.

* * *

For the first time in a long time, Isaac felt uncertain which party to attend to as he looked on at the scene that was Stiles's bedroom.

His more natural instinct was to approach Stiles, but the man seemed in capable hands, Jackson leading him into the bathroom.

Less natural was the new instinct to approach Derek, but he had also never seen Derek look quite so… Broken before.

Isaac took a few uncertain steps toward the alpha, standing cautiously above the man for a few moments before crouching down next to him. Derek seemed to be whispering something repeatedly as he shook.

Isaac hesitantly reached out and pulled Derek into his arms. And it was in that moment that Isaac's heart truly felt like it was bleeding, because he understood what Derek was repeating.

"I've lost them," Derek whispered, "I'm so sorry. I've lost all of you. I'm so sorry."

* * *

Stiles held tightly to Jackson's hand as he stood in front of Talia and the rest of the Hale family, except Derek, gathered in the Stilinski living room.

He stretched his free hand out to Talia, offering a small white card.

"This is the number for the sexual recovery center I visited," Stiles said, voice and mind still slightly shaken, "I am no longer asking that Derek seek counseling there–"

"Stiles–" his father said, stepping forward.

"I'm demanding it," Stiles continued, ignoring his father and clutching tightly to Jackson's hand, "I can't and won't ask my father to stop any investigation that follows from tonight, but if Derek is ever going to see me or Scott again, he will go through this program."

"All right," Talia said, voice trembling.

It was the first, and probably the last, time that Stiles had ever felt power over an alpha werewolf. Ironically, he had never felt so small.


	19. Rage

Stiles tracked the placement of the blinds shadowed on his bedroom wall. Somewhere between his restless thoughts and even more restless sleep, the light had moved across the room and begun to fade. He almost had to squint to see the shadows now.

His gaze shifted to the _new_ bedroom door as a knock sounded on it.

"Stiles?" his father called through the door, followed by another knock as the door pushed open.

His father stood in the doorway with an assessing gaze, releasing a sigh as he undoubtedly took in Stiles's disheveled hair and the small lump of bedding next to his side.

"Haven't seen you since lunch," his father said, moving to stand in front of the bed and crossing his arms over his torso, "I just wanted to know if you were gonna get out of bed anytime before the day was over.

"Well, I hadn't planned on it," Stiles said, shaking his head as he pulled the lump of bedding closer, "No."

On the other side of the lump, Jackson raised his head out from under the comforter, eyes blinking blearily at the Sheriff.

"Okay, I didn't want to do this," his father said, releasing another sigh, "Lydia is downstairs, and the only reason I'm standing in front of you right now is because I told her that I would make sure you two were decent. She didn't seem that impressed with the compromise, so I think you should probably–"

"Stiles!" the familiar screech of a female voice called from downstairs.

"Hustle," his father said, shoulders slightly hunching.

His father's panic in the face of Lydia Martin was almost enough to bring a smile to Stiles's face.

"Dad," Stiles said, releasing a sigh of his own, "I really don't feel up for guests – or any activity that requires me to step out of this bed."

"I understand that, Stiles," his father said, "And I've understood that for three weeks now. As have both Isaac and Jackson – the latter clearly won't leave your side, and the former waits around downstairs like a puppy, hoping for you to throw him a bone–"

A crash sounded from downstairs, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he heard Isaac exclaim, "Hey!".

"I told Lydia that you didn't want to leave your bedroom," his father said, continuing, "And she said–"

"That's fine," Lydia said, stepping into the room and resting against the doorframe, "It's not the first time you've had me up here, you naughty boy."

"Lydia–" both Stiles and his father said.

"You know Stiles, I wasn't offended in high school when you wouldn't put a little moisturizer on, or even like comb your hair, if we were going to hang out," Lydia said, moving further into the room and stepping up to the bed, "But at some point, a girl has really got to draw the line – you look like shit. Oh! Hello, Shirtless Jackson."

"Uh… Hey, Lydia," Jackson said, waving hesitantly and stepping out of the bed, "Stiles, I'm just going to go downstairs for a little while. Do you want me to…"

Jackson motioned toward the lump on the bed, and Stiles shook his head. Jackson shrugged his shoulders and moved to grab his shirt from the floor.

"Uh, no. That's counterproductive to our efforts to raise Stiles's spirits, so you," Lydia said, quickly grabbing the shirt for herself and shaking it at Jackson, "You get to remain shirtless."

"Christ," his father whispered, shaking his head as he looked up at the ceiling.

"Fine," Jackson said, shrugging his shoulders as he turned his head back to Stiles to offer a wink, "I'll be in the kitchen. I've got a craving for some mint chocolate chip ice cream right about now."

At the mention of the green treat, the lump next to Stiles moved slightly.

"I guess I'll just go make two bowls for myself," Jackson said, eyes set on the lump as he continued to walk toward the door, "Since there's only about two bowls worth left, and no one else to share with."

Lydia snorted as Jackson walked out of the room. She sat on the edge of the bed Jackson had exited and pushed the lump of comforter onto Stiles, sighing as she bent down to face Scott laid out on the bed next to Stiles.

"Hey, Scotty," Lydia said, combing a hand through the little boy's hair, "Do you think you can go downstairs with your grandpa and Jackson for a little while, just so I can talk to your daddy?"

"I don't want to leave daddy," Scott said, shaking his head and curling further into Stiles's side.

Stiles's heart clenched, a feeling that was becoming more and more familiar lately.

He knew that Scott shadowing him for the last three weeks was an unhealthy response to recent events, but he didn't exactly know what a healthy response might look like either.

"Do you remember the fourth of July party your grandpa had last summer?" Lydia asked, tracing an index finger across Scott's face, "When I showed you my super power for the first time?"

"It hurt my ears," Scott said, nodding his head vehemently and lifting his small hands to his ears to emphasize, "It was really loud."

"Exactly," Lydia said, offering a small smile to the little boy, "If _anything_ happens while you're downstairs, and your daddy needs your help, I'll make that same sound again. There's no way you could miss that, right?"

"What do you think, bud?" Stiles asked, nudging Scott with his elbow, "I'm pretty sure Isaac is kind of sad about all the time you've been spending with me. You're his best pal. And Jackson did seem kind of sad to have to eat all that ice cream alone."

"Dad," Scott said, face shifting into something sour.

"He misses you, too, you know," Stiles said, shrugging his shoulders, "I think you should go downstairs for a little bit – just so everyone can see you. When you're done, I'm all yours again."

Stiles resisted the urge to chuckle as Scott's brow shifted into something resembling deep contemplation.

Scott's large head turned back toward Lydia.

"And you'll let me know if something bad happens?" Scott asked.

"Promise," Lydia said, nodding.

"All right," Scott said, moving hesitantly off the bed, "Just for a little while."

"Come on, bud," his father said, reaching out for Scott's hand, "Isaac and Jackson aren't the only ones missing special time with you. What do you say we ditch them for our own fun?"

Lydia smirked as she closed the door behind the pair, resting against it.

"Let's drink," Lydia said, grin forming as she pulled two bottles of wine from her bag.

Stiles shook his head. As a master strategist, Lydia only used tools that assisted her in meeting her end goal. That alcohol was not for fun. That alcohol was to ply painful answers and reflection from Stiles.

"Lydia," Stiles said, huffing, "I'm not going to start drinking because the situation I'm in sucks. That's called alcoholism."

"Okay," Lydia said, quirking an eyebrow as she put one bottle away, "Better?"

* * *

Isaac snorted as he watched Rick make unsubtle glances at Jackson from the other side of the couch in the Stilinski's living room.

Jackson stood shirtless in the doorway, holding a bowl of cereal, which the man was currently spooning into his mouth. Isaac was pretty sure he had heard Rick gasp at the sight. Needless to say, he was about ten seconds away from opening a window. Fucking pheromones.

Isaac tensed as he detected Scott moving down the stairs. He still wasn't quite sure what their dynamic would be like following Derek's attack – not only had Isaac not been there originally to protect Scott or Stiles, he's pretty sure Scott was confused as to why Isaac had shown sympathy to Derek at a time when everyone else seemed angry. Even Talia had few words for Derek that night.

"Hey, bud," Jackson said, turning away from the living room and crouching down, "So, it looks like we're out of mint chocolate chip. I settled for this cereal, but if your heart is still set on it, I'm sure we can go out and get some ice cream."

Isaac offered an accusing glare at Rick, who began to shift guiltily as he attempted to stealthily cover the now empty bowl next to him with a decorative pillow.

"That sounds like a great idea," the Sheriff said, still hidden behind the wall to Isaac, "You two should go do that."

"He doesn't have a shirt on," Scott said glumly, "And I don't want to leave the house, what if Lydia screams because daddy needs help–"

"Mr. Wizard's is just down the block," Jackson said, "We could be back in no time, and I'm sure your grandpa, or one of your uncles, would lend me a shirt so we could go."

"You can have mine!" Rick said, standing up and pull his own shirt over his head.

"No," Isaac said, standing up and pushing Rick back down onto the couch, "I've definitely got shirts upstairs, ones that don't require anyone else to go shirtless in order to be worn. Shirts for everyone!"

"What do you say?" Jackson asked Scott, "Should we go? We could get something to cheer up your daddy, maybe his favorite ice cream?"

"All right," Scott said, voice still disheartened, "And… I have a shirt for you."

"As jealous as I am of your fashion sense, bud," Jackson said chuckling, "I don't think I'm small enough to fit into your clothes!"

"No," Scott said, shaking his head, "It's one of daddy's, sometimes I sleep with it because it smells like him."

Isaac's heart almost burst from the internal aww of that one moment, until Rick opened his mouth.

"Genius," Rick whispered, "Why did I never think of that?"

"What is wrong with you?" Isaac asked, swiping a hand at the back of Rick's head.

"Hey!" Rick yelled, using the same decorative pillowed used to cover up the evidence of the missing mint chocolate chip ice cream as a shield, "At least I have good taste. And I'm sixteen! I'm supposed to be horny. What's your excuse?"

"I'm going to go check on the Sheriff," Isaac said, standing up again from the couch, "Try not to smell any furniture Stiles may have sat on."

* * *

Stiles stared defiantly back at Lydia. The redhead sat next to him on the bed, back against the pillows and an arm outstretched, offering him a swig of the open wine bottle.

Stiles released a huffing sound, and Lydia raised an eyebrow in response. She shook the bottle in her hand.

Stiles sighed as he took the bottle and lifted it to his mouth.

"I like how you brought a corkscrew," Stiles said, handing the bottle back to her and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "But no wine glasses."

"So you're divorced," Lydia said, offering him a large grin.

* * *

Jackson chuckled as he followed Scott up to the little boy's room. Small feet moving quickly up the stairs and into the room, where Scott seemed to hesitate in front of the closet.

"Can you close your eyes?" Scott asked, turning his head toward Jackson.

"What?" Jackson asked, an eyebrow quirking.

"I hid the shirt," Scott said, "In a special place that only I know about."

"Oh," Jackson said, making a show of turning around, "How about I just turn the other way?"

Jackson received no response other than the sound of the closet doors opening, so Scott must have been happy enough with his solution.

As he looked around the room, Jackson noticed that something seemed off about Scott's bedroom. Something was missing, like it seemed darker somehow. There was a personality missing from the room, like the color–

Jackson's eyes widened and his stomach dropped as he realized that the colors _were_ missing from the room – a room that had once been filled with a hundred varying shades of green.

Peeking behind his shoulder to check on Scott, Jackson noticed a large green pile sitting in the corner of the closet. And though Scott did seem buried in the closet, Jackson guessed that it was the pile Scott had actually been trying to hide from Jackson.

Noticing that Scott was backing out of the closet, Jackson turned back around quickly, waiting for Scott to tell him it was okay to look again.

* * *

Isaac frowned as he stepped into the kitchen, noticing the way the Sheriff seemed to slam the kitchen cabinet, followed by a prolonged period of swearing.

"Everything okay there, Sheriff?" Isaac asked.

"What?" the Sheriff asked, turning around, "Oh, I'm sorry, Isaac. I didn't know you were there. It's just that I can't find the damn chamomile tea, and Stiles really likes that stuff when he's upset. Claudia always drank it to help calm her nerves, and that was something Stiles took away from her."

Isaac nodded his head as the Sheriff seemed to grow more visibly upset.

"And I just can't believe I don't have any in the house," the Sheriff continued, "What kind of father am I? I lived with him for eighteen years, most of which he spent drinking chamomile tea. I know enough to keep that on hand, and it's not in the fucking cabinet–"

"Sheriff," Isaac said, voice cautious as he approached the other man, "I think Stiles will be okay without the tea. Did he ask for it? I can make a grocery run, or I can go with Jackson and Scott to get some."

"No," the Sheriff said, shaking his head, "He didn't ask for it yet, but he could. And then what do I say, 'Sorry, son, we're all out, because I'm a fucking idiot that doesn't think about his family at the grocery store'?"

"I'm starting to think this isn't about tea, Sheriff," Isaac said, leaning against the counter.

"Fuck," the Sheriff said, turning away from Isaac and leaning against the sink.

Isaac's body remained tense as he waited for the Sheriff to speak. It wasn't difficult to imagine what might be troubling the man, but Isaac didn't want to pry without certainty. Still, the house had gone three weeks without fully discussing the night of Derek's attack on Stiles. Everyone seemed tense, even Scott.

"I can't let him down again, Isaac," the Sheriff said, still facing away from him.

"Let him down, sir?" Isaac asked, unease giving way to surprise.

"I wasn't there, Isaac," the Sheriff said, turning around with watery eyes, "And even when I did show up – I was almost too late. The question keeps running through my mind, what if Jackson hadn't been here that night? I'm always out late for work, and I… He could have… It would have killed me, Isaac, to come home one night when Scott and Stiles were here alone – and to find… I just don't know what I would have…"

"But Jackson was here," Isaac said, resisting the impulse to step closer to the man to offer comfort, "I don't think you should focus on things like that, sir. If you live life in terms of 'what ifs', I don't think you'll ever be happy."

"I know that," the Sheriff said, turning away again, "But this was really fucking serious, Isaac. Even Scott gets that – he doesn't really understand what he witnessed, but he knows the adults are all upset. And he knows that his grandpa arrested his father. I have to beg him to smile at me now, have you noticed that?"

"He'll get over it," Isaac said, shrugging his shoulders, "Yes, it's tough right now, but he'll start to adapt to the new normal. And when he sees that Derek is fine, he'll be the same Scotty we've always known."

"He shouldn't have to adapt!" the Sheriff yelled, causing Isaac to flinch back, "His other father shouldn't be living life from a bed because he's too fucking scared of the rest of the world right now!"

Putting old habits to the side, Isaac squared his shoulders as he faced the Sheriff.

"Theoretically, I understand that you feel it's your job to take care of your family," Isaac said, nodding his head, "Not having had a father like that, I can't exactly empathize, but I can sympathize. And I can see how _you_ might feel you've let your family down right now. But, sir, I am telling you that there's not a person in this house that blames you for any of this, including Scott. You're still the same superhuman that Scott looks up to everyday, the one that emulates values that transcend any supernatural power – because those powers are limited, and most seek them for personal or short-term gain. What you see as disappointment in Scott's eyes, I see as hope, because he knows that while life sucks right now, his grandpa is going to help make it all okay. And even though Stiles is grown, I see that same look of adoration in his eyes each day, too. In many ways, he's still that little boy that looks up to his dad for all the answers. You're their hero, sir."

"Some hero," the Sheriff snorted, a trail of wet tears sliding down his cheeks, "I don't know where to go from here, Isaac. I love both of my boys, and I've always thought that was enough. Stiles was sometimes unruly, but he was always well liked growing up. I never had to deal with another kid hassling him, and up until recently, I always thought Derek was as boring as wallpaper. An asshole, but smart enough to choose to love my son. I learned from this experience – I learned that my love can't protect them from everything."

"No," Isaac said, shaking his head, "It can't. You won't be able to prevent every bully or scrape, but you can help dull the pain. You can tell them that their fears aren't founded, and you can support them even when the water is distressed beneath a still surface."

"Aren't I the parent here?" the Sheriff asked, offering a watery chuckle, "When did you get so smart?"

"Well," Isaac said, shrugging his shoulders, "Like Scott and Stiles, I've recently been fortunate enough to have a good role model."

"Come here, son," the Sheriff said, shaking his head as he pulled Isaac in for a hug.

"You're an honorary Stilinski, you know that right?" the Sheriff asked, placing a firm hand on the back of Isaac's neck as they remained locked in the hug.

"Yes, sir," Isaac said.

"Which makes me an honorary father to you – if that were something you might want, that is," the Sheriff continued, "So all those things you said I could do for Scott and Stiles – I can do those for you, too. And if you wanted to… If you wanted to talk about Derek, I understand that he's still your brother, I'm available to listen."

"Thank you, sir," Isaac said, feeling his own eyes begin to water.

"You know you can call me John, right?" the Sheriff asked.

"Daddy!" Rick yelled, running into the kitchen and throwing himself onto the two men to join the hug.

* * *

Stiles took another sip of the wine bottle before handing it back to Lydia, who had already consumed a fourth of the bottle herself. He was beginning to wonder who the wine had really been for.

Stiles felt his skin itch all over as Lydia glared back at him, waiting for his response.

"I couldn't, Lydia," Stiles said, shrugging his shoulders.

"That asshole fucking assaulted you, Stiles!" Lydia said, face morphing into anger, "What do you mean you _couldn't_ press charges?"

"I just… It's because… I don't…" Stiles said, a bubble of anxiety rising in his chest.

Stiles huffed as tears began to form in his eyes and the bubble gave way to frustration.

"God!" Stiles said, raising his hands up into the air, "I just fucking couldn't, okay? I went ahead with the breaking and entering, and I gave my statement as a witness to his presence at Jackson's house earlier, but I couldn't file a sexual assault charge."

Lydia released a sigh as she shook her head.

"I get it!" Stiles said, pulling his knees up to rest his head against them, "Okay? I fucking get it. You're disappointed in me. You're angry with me. Get in fucking line, all right? You think I don't see the way that my own father shakes his head when he looks at me now? That's if he even can look at me, he's spent more time avoiding eye contact with me then when I first moved back in. But how the hell was I supposed to continue looking at my own son if I went through with that?"

"Stiles–" Lydia said, shifting closer to him.

"No," Stiles said, staring back at Lydia, "You tell me. How do I put it on record that my husband tried to rape me, and then continue to look over the breakfast table in the mornings and tell Scott everything is fine? That everything will be fine because both of his fathers love him. How does he continue to love either one of us after something like that? If you know, then tell me – because I'm drowning here."

Lydia pulled Stiles in as he began to sob.

"I don't know how to make everyone happy here, Lydia," Stiles said, body shaking against her, "I'm drowning."

* * *

Jackson's heartbeat began to race as he pulled the shirt Scott offered him over his head. This was a make it or break it moment – maybe he should wait for Stiles to address the issue, but Stiles had his own plate full, and Scott was hurting just as much as everyone else in the house seemed to be.

"Hey, bud," Jackson said, sitting down on the bed and patting the space next to him, "Why don't you join me up here for a moment?"

"Okay," Scott said, shoulders shrugging.

Jackson internally cringed at the despondence in the little boy's usually cheery voice. Initially he had written Scott's recent lack of enthusiasm off as a response to everyone else's emotions, but it was becoming apparently clear that Scott had his own emotions forming as well.

He had thought it odd that Scott seemed to look at him less, and that the little boy frequently chose to talk about him rather than to him, but he had also written that off as Scott focusing all of his attention on protecting his father. While that may have been part of the issue, the pile in the closet said there was another storm at work.

There had been a few signs at the school that things weren't okay, but Jackson had been waiting for Scott to approach him, or for Stiles to be in a better place to discuss them with Scott. Waiting wasn't going to cut it anymore either.

"You know," Jackson said, facing Scott, "I noticed last week at the school that you weren't wearing your usual clothes, all decked out in lizard gear."

Scott's face turned down, the little boy now staring at his own hands folded on his lap.

"And then I noticed the other day that Kira Yukimura was sitting with a new group of friends at lunchtime," Jackson said, heart clenching again as he noticed the little boy's hands begin to fidget, "And now I see that your room is missing some lizard objects. I was wondering if those were things you might want to talk about."

"I don't know," Scott said, keeping his head down as he shrugged his shoulders.

* * *

Stiles wiped his cheeks dry, frowning at the wet spots on the shoulder of Lydia's blouse.

"Sorry," Stiles said, nodding his head at her shoulder.

"Idiot," Lydia said, shaking her head as she swiped at the back of his head, "It'll wash. It's just clothing."

"Yeah," Stiles said, nodding and sitting back against the pillows.

* * *

"I don't like lizards anymore," Scott said, still staring down at his lap.

"Oh," Jackson said, unease building as his suspicions were confirmed, "Okay. That's okay, Scott. People's interests change over time."

"Yeah," Scott said, nodding.

"Does that mean you don't like _all_ lizards, or just the ones you used to wear?" Jackson asked, nudging the little boy with his elbow, "Do you not like me anymore?"

"No!" Scott said, finally looking up with wide eyes, "I do – I do like you, Mr. Jack."

"Okay," Jackson said, raising his hands and offering a small smile, "That's good. That's very good, because I like you, too, Scott. Is there a reason you stopped liking all other lizards?"

Scott turned his head back down.

"Well," Scott said, hands twisting in his lap again, "Papa told me once that lizards were the reason he and daddy stopped loving each other. I think that's why papa became a bad man."

Jackson's chest twisted at the little boy's admission.

* * *

"All I keep thinking about is how there was no likeness in his eyes," Stiles said, voice quaking, "They were just… So full of anger. Derek's always been a hothead, but that – that was terrifying, Lydia. I didn't recognize him at all."

"But you said that he snapped out of it," Lydia said, nudging his side.

"Yeah," Stiles said, nodding his head as he stared up at the ceiling, "Yeah, he did seem to snap out of it. When he broke down. I didn't understand what was happening at the time, and I don't think I do even now. I guess it was Scott – usually his anger toward me was always private, just between us. But I think both of our hearts broke when Scott knocked on the door. How fucking twisted is that?"

"What?" Lydia asked, moving forward to rest her head and a hand on his chest.

"My heart broke for Derek in that moment," Stiles said, "Because I think it clicked for him. He saw himself the way that Scott must have, and I think I'm more sad for Derek than Scott for that."

"That's…" Lydia said.

"Really fucking stupid," Stiles said, nodding, "I know. But I know that Scott will forgive Derek over time. It helps that he doesn't understand what he heard or saw, but Derek – he'll live with that forever. If it were me, that would haunt me. It probably already does, otherwise I would be out of this bed, right?"

Lydia remained silent as Stiles continued to contemplate.

"You know what really scares me though?" Stiles asked.

"What?" Lydia asked, head turning to look up at his face.

"What if Derek didn't snap into reality like we think he did," Stiles said, gaze meeting Lydia's, "What if that was him slipping into something due to overstimulation. What if the man before that – the one I don't recognize – what if that's actually Derek now?"

"Christ," Lydia said, pulling off of Stiles's chest and reaching for her bag, "I think we need that other bottle."

* * *

Jackson took a deep breath before squaring his shoulders. He set a hand on Scott's knee and another against the little boy's back, pulling Scott onto his own lap.

"Why do you think your papa is a bad man, Scott?" Jackson asked.

"Well," Scott said, meeting Jackson's gaze after several moments of silence, "I heard him speaking not so nice to daddy. And I smelled daddy – he was scared. Really scared, Mr. Jack. And then you were scared, before you broke down daddy's door. And then grandpa was yelling. Everybody yelled. Papa was the reason everybody yelled."

Jackson frowned as he realized that Scott's issue was more complex than he originally thought. He knew that there were layers to the boy's emotions, but he hadn't quite grasped just how much Scott observed from that night.

"A lot of people were angry with your papa," Jackson said, nodding, "Because you're right, he did make your daddy sad. But that doesn't mean that they're still angry with him – or that they'll always be angry with him. When you get mad at your daddy, you forgive him, right?"

"Yeah," Scott said, nodding.

"Well, it's kind of like that then," Jackson said, "And your daddy won't always be sad, just like you're not always sad. In fact, I happen to know that you make your daddy happy every day."

"My papa is still a bad man, and I made him that way," Scott said, face twisted into a frown.

"No," Jackson said, shaking his head, "You didn't make your papa a bad man, Scott. And even if your papa did some bad things, that doesn't make him a bad man."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked, frown giving way to confusion.

"Well, when you're mad at your daddy," Jackson said, "Why are you mad at him?"

Scott stared down at his lap, lips set into a thin line.

"Scott," Jackson said, pulling Scott's face up with a gentle hand on his chin, "Why do you get mad at him?"

"Because," Scott said, sighing, "He won't let me have a real lizard."

"Okay," Jackson said, resisting the urge to chuckle, "Does that make him a bad man?"

"No," Scott said, shaking his head quickly.

"But you were mad at him," Jackson said.

"Yeah, but that doesn't make him a bad man," Scott said, face set in a serious expression.

"Exactly," Jackson said, nodding, "Just like how you might be mad at your papa right now, that doesn't make him a bad man. He might have done a bad thing by making your daddy sad, but that doesn't mean he's all bad, okay?"

"Yeah," Scott said, nodding.

"And I've certainly never known a lizard capable of making someone a bad man," Jackson said, shaking his head, "We usually only use our powers for good, kind of like wolves."

"Really?" Scott asked, eyes widening.

"Really," Jackson said, "And I bet Kira misses your lizards, too. She would probably come over just to see your room all decked out again. It's too bad all your lizard things have disappeared."

"I might know where they are," Scott said, pulling off of Jackson's lap, "But you have to close your eyes again."

Jackson smiled as he made a dramatic effort of covering his eyes with his hands.

* * *

"You know what you need, Stiles?" Lydia asked, brandishing the now almost half empty second bottle of wine in his face.

"What, Lydia?" Stiles asked, pushing the bottle away.

"A good fuck," Lydia said, beginning to giggle, "And you just happen to have some Grade A, prime fuckable beef walking around your house shirtless."

"Lydia," Stiles said, shaking his head.

"No," Lydia said, letting the bottle fall onto the bed as she clutched Stiles's face between her hands and moved closer, "You need to fuck him for the rest of the world, Stiles. Fuck him hard. Tell Isaac and the Sheriff to take the munchkin out for some fun, and then push that man onto the bed and just ride until you can't see anymore."

"Lydia–" Stiles said.

"Ahh!" Lydia screamed, "I hate you! You stole the only fuckable single coworker I have, and you won't even touch his penis!"

"You're spilling wine on my comforter," Stiles said, rolling his eyes.

"Fuck," Lydia said, moving away from Stiles.

"Besides," Stiles said, watching Lydia scramble for the wine bottle, "Me fucking Jackson would imply that he finds me attractive right now, and I'm not sure why he would. I'm a complete mess."

"Yeah – a sexy mess," Lydia said, falling off the bed and onto the floor as she chased the bottle.

* * *

John smiled as he watched Jackson and Scott rearrange Scott's room. It had been a while since he had seen Scott play with his toys, and it was a welcome sight.

"Hey, Scotty," John said, knocking on the doorframe, "I was hoping you wouldn't mind if your uncles and I took you out for ice cream instead of Mr. Jack."

"John, it's no problem–" Jackson said.

"I know that," John said, waggling his eyebrows at the other man and trying to transmit a hidden message, "But we were thinking that maybe you could stay here with Stiles. Alone. In the house. And protect him. You know, in the bedroom."

"Oh…" Jackson said.

"Yeah," John said, nodding while a large grin formed on his face.

Jackson walked over to the closet and pulled out two shoes before heading back over to Scott, crouching down.

"What do you say, bud?" Jackson asked, offering two shoes covered from toe to string in lizard stickers.

"Okay," Scott said, nodding his head as he reached out to grab the shoes, "You saved him last time anyway, I think you're a better protector. I'll watch out for Uncle Isaac from now on. He doesn't even know to wear a jacket in the rain."

"I think that sounds like a great plan," John said, moving forward to help Scott tie his shoes.

* * *

Stiles's gaze turned from Lydia to Jackson, as the man stepped into the room. His brow furrowed as he took in the plaid button down Jackson was wearing.

"Is that my shirt?" Stiles asked, "I've been looking for that for _months_. Where did you find it?"

"Oh, God," Lydia said, still on the floor, "Burn it. Burn it now, please God!"

"Har, har, Lydia," Stiles said, rolling his eyes as he sat further up on the bed.

"Uh…" Jackson said, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously, "Lydia, the Sheriff is waiting for you downstairs. He said that he suspected you might need a ride home. Something about a clinking of bottles in your purse?"

Stiles chuckled as a hand raised up from the floor and above the bed, reaching around for the comforter before grasping it to help pull herself up.

"Stiles," Lydia said, gaze intent on him, "It's times like these that make me think I could be your stepmother. That man is a beautiful thing."

"It's times like these that make me want to throw up," Stiles said, rolling his eyes.

Lydia shook her head as she stumbled upward, falling slightly forward but catching herself by leaning onto Jackson's shoulder. Stiles almost lost it at the look of alarm building on Jackson's face as the redhead stood back, taking Jackson in.

"You be good to Jackson," Lydia said to Jackson, Stiles's eye quirking behind the pair as he took in the scene, "He's had a rough life – so what you're a kanima, Stiles? You get in there and do the job right, make him forget that his name is Jackson Hale. Show him that a wolf has nothing on you!"

"I think you got some names reversed in there, Lydia," Stiles said, chuckling.

"Whatever," Lydia said, pushing Jackson away as she headed for the door, "You know what I mean. Shirts off when I close this door, and I want details in the morning. I don't care who calls me to tell me, but I want a full report on where every tongue went after this night."

Stiles grinned as Jackson turned bright red, the other man moving closer to Stiles as Lydia started to close the door.

"I never thought I would say this," Jackson said, now standing in front of Stiles, "But I like her better sober."

"Definitely," Stiles said, grinning as he stood up on his knees to face Jackson, "But thank you for giving us some time to… You know. Talk things out. Lydia has a way of making me cry about it, and then say 'fuck it' and move on."

Stiles's throat began to dry as Jackson's gaze became more intent on him, sweeping up and down his body. He couldn't even remember what day it was, much less the last time he had a real shower, so he knew he must look pretty revolting.

"So, where's Scott?" Stiles asked, fidgeting with his hands as he tried to steer Jackson away from noticing how gross he was right now.

"Your _ex-_brother-in-laws took him out for ice cream with your dad," Jackson said, gaze meeting Stiles's, "I hope it's not too soon to tell you how happy I am about that ex part."

"Oh?" Stiles asked, skin tingling as heat started to fill his face.

"Yup," Jackson said, lifting a hand to the top button of the plaid shirt, "And I'm pretty sure that means I won't be needing this shirt anymore. Have you been drinking?"

"What?" Stiles asked, stomach twisting with nervous anxiety.

"Are you trashed?" Jackson asked, raising a hand in front of Stiles's face.

"I'm fine," Stiles said, pushing Jackson's hand out of the way, "I took five sips maybe. Trust me, that alcohol was not for me. I think that's how Lydia expresses emotion, through alcohol."

"Good," Jackson said, pulling his shirt completely off, "Because I think it's only fair that if I don't have a shirt on, you have to remove an article of clothing, too."

"Oh… I… Uh… I just have the one piece on," Stiles said, looking down at his shorts as his heartbeat began to raise and the blush from his face spread throughout the rest of his body.

"I know," Jackson said, a large grin forming on his face, "I didn't want to ask that of you when you were under some other influence. Do you have any objections?"

"Well, I thought maybe you would like to talk before we did anything like that – are you serious?" Stiles asked, voice squeaking, "You really find me attractive right now?"

"Stiles," Jackson said, moving closer into his personal space, "I don't think there's been a day yet that I haven't been blue-balled by you – not that I'm accusing you! It's just that my blood tends to rise when I look at you. Or think about you."

"Okay," Stiles said, feeling slightly overwhelmed and dizzy from Jackson's admission, but happy overall, "You don't think we should talk first, though? I have some more apologies to make, and maybe a few thank you–"

Jackson cut Stiles off by gently pressing his mouth against Stiles's.

"All of that can wait," Jackson said, pulling back, "If you're consenting that is."

Stiles hesitated in font of Jackson for a moment, taking in the man before him. His life had changed so much since moving back to Beacon Hills, but a few things had remained consistent – one of those being Jackson's continued support, no matter what form Stiles had wanted or needed it in.

"All right," Stiles said, nodding, "I'm game if you are."

Jackson's grin returned to his face as he stepped forward again.

Everything wasn't perfect right then, but who said it had to be? Stiles had only been let down after chasing one societal ideal after another in his life, and maybe it was time that he just sat back and let life happen in front of him. He could handle this moment – he could love and be loved again.

It was as he felt himself pushed back onto the mattress, Jackson's tongue licking further into his mouth, that he realized that was exactly what he was doing.

Everything else would come in time, so long as he allowed himself to remain open to letting go of all the rage and confusion that had been festering inside of him. Maybe Lydia's advise wasn't so far fetched after all.


	20. MendPoison

Eyes closed, Stiles let loose a deep sigh as warm water surrounded him. The rising steam offered a literal and metaphorical therapeutic cleansing. Both his mind and body had been racing for so long, it felt nice to let go again – to just lie still and be.

He had thought the last six years of his eight married to Derek Hale had been stressful, but it seemed like nothing compared to the anger and frustration that had been the last six months following the alpha's attack.

Despite his father's urgings, Stiles had remained staunch about not pressing sexual assault charges against his now ex-husband; however, he did continue to pursue his demand that Derek seek counseling from the sexual recovery center, which Derek had agreed to with little disagreement.

Today marked Derek's second month in treatment, and while he wouldn't be telling anyone else in the Stilinski house, he was celebrating the achievement inside. It was a huge milestone for his family – whether everyone agreed with the route or not – it was a glimmer of hope that Scott might someday be able to maintain a positive relationship with his papa.

Stiles felt the muscles supporting him from behind contract, followed by a low chuckle next to his ear. He opened his eyes, taking in the dim lighting of the bathroom.

"What's going on in that big brain of yours?" Jackson asked, nipping lightly at his earlobe.

"Should I be offended that you just called my head large?" Stiles asked, pushing back against the other man.

"Scott had to get it from somewhere," Jackson said, chuckling again.

"Hey!" Stiles said, jabbing Jackson with his right elbow, "He'll grow into it… I think."

"It's cute," Jackson said, wrapping his arms around Stiles's torso, "All the other boys and girls are going to love it, too. You'll see. Just try to enjoy life until he's a horny sixteen year old."

"I thought you dragged me in here to help me relax," Stiles said, resting his head against Jackson's chest and closing his eyes again, "'Cause you're doing the opposite of that, I just thought you should know. 1/5, would not recommend."

"No," Jackson said, right hand traveling across the expanse of Stiles's torso, "I dragged you in here to get you naked and all lathered up. So far it's working."

"Hmm," Stiles said, his own muscles beginning to contract as both of Jackson's hands began to move lower.

"Remember that thing you did to me last week, baby?" Jackson asked, voice low in Stiles's ear.

"Uh…" Stiles said, voice breaking as Jackson's right hand gripped his length, "Which thing? We… We did a lot."

"That thing you did before this thing," Jackson said, voice deepening further as he slid a finger into Stiles.

"Fuck," Stiles said, body tensing and forcing his eyes open.

_"Where the fuck did that come from?"_ Stiles thought, spotting a bottle of water-resistant lube resting on the bath's edge.

"Yep," Stiles said, resting against Jackson again, "Yes. I do – I do recall one of us doing that to the other now."

"Good," Jackson said, chuckling again, "Because I thought we could have a repeat tonight. But I thought maybe I could do the prepping."

Jackson licked the shell of Stiles's ear for extra emphasis.

"Christ!" Stiles said, pushing against Jackson as the man slid a second finger inside of him, "As good as this all sounds and – fuck, Jackson, slower – and _feels_, I'm not sure tonight is the best night."

"Because of the party," Jackson said, mouthing at Stiles's neck.

"Mmhmm," Stiles said, closing his eyes again as Jackson's slipped a third finger in and began a steady rhythm.

"Well, that's exactly why I thought tonight was the perfect night," Jackson said, pausing the trail of hickeys he was creating, "So everyone with a super snout knows that we belong to each other. You know, like a 'hands off' kind of thing."

Stiles rolled his eyes as Jackson's right hand moved away from his cock and down to squeeze his thigh.

"I'm pretty sure everyone already knows, Jack," Stiles said, lifting slightly up as he pushed Jackson's hands away and turned around to face the other man, "Scott's probably told half the town already. And those that didn't hear it from him have probably already smelled it on several occasions."

"You're right," Jackson said, a wide grin forming on his face, "Remember the faces we got yesterday at the grocery store?"

"I knew you enjoyed that way too much!" Stiles said, splashing water up to the other man's face.

"Hey!" Jackson said, still grinning, "It wasn't my idea – sexy as hell, yes! But my idea? No. What did you say again?"

Stiles huffed as he rested on his thighs, now straddling Jackson's lap.

" 'Don't help, baby,' " Jackson said, imitating Stiles's voice, " ' Just watch. ' At no point in there did I suggest that you use my own cum as a masturbation lubricant."

Stiles rolled his eyes as he moved forward to press his mouth against Jackson's – anything to shut the man up. It was probably time to get out of the bathtub anyways.

* * *

Derek frowned as he sat down on the couch in the center's community room. He had been paged for a guest, but Derek hadn't been expecting anyone. Stiles and Scott typically only visited on the weekends, unless they called ahead, and none of his family members, other than Isaac, seemed to have enough courage to visit since he first checked in.

And Isaac always called ahead.

Looking around the empty room, Derek let loose a sigh as he sat back and rested his head against the back of the couch. He closed his eyes and waited.

* * *

Legs parted and pelvis slightly lifted into the air, Stiles couldn't help but note the contrast between the cool sheets he currently rested against and the warm bath he had just pulled Jackson from.

"Fuck, Jackson," Stiles said, eyes closed because he knew it would all be over too soon if he looked down.

"Feel so good inside, baby," Jackson whispered, a finger slipping past the man's tongue, "Want to lick you like this for days."

* * *

Derek woke with a startle, bleary gaze peering up at the guest that had just knocked his foot and called out his name to rouse him.

Derek's stomach churned as he look upon the man in front of him.

"Great," Derek said dryly, "What are you doing here?"

"Is that any way to greet your guest, nephew?" Peter asked, a small smirk stretched across his face as he settled down onto the seat next to the couch.

"Sure you're a guest and not a patient?" Derek asked, raising his hands to cover his face.

* * *

Stiles opened his eyes as he felt Jackson align the shaft of his cock, just sliding against his opening. Stiles could just see the tip of Jackson's curved shaft, large head expanding as the foreskin dragged against Stiles's own skin.

There were a lot of things that Stiles loved about Jackson Whittemore, but his cock was in the top ten list. Longer than the average – well, Stiles wasn't sure that the saying, "the average bear," really applied in that comparison, but the point was the length was just right to feel. Jackson's size hadn't really been a surprise to Stiles three months ago when Jackson had first laid him down onto this same bed, but the manscaping – or _lack of_ overt manscaping – had been. Sometimes it made Stiles's mouth water just at the thought.

Stiles lost his train of thought as he watched a trail of spit drop from Jackson's mouth, working between the two of them as Jackson continued to rut against him.

* * *

Derek glared openly at Peter across from him. So far, the program had been going surprisingly well for him, and the last thing Derek needed was for Peter to mess it all up.

He crossed his arms against his chest and waited for Peter to speak. Though he briefly considered standing up and walking back to his room. He probably should still do that. It wasn't too late–

"How are things going, nephew?" Peter asked, smirk widening.

* * *

"Jackson," Stiles said, hands clutching at the other man's shoulders as Jackson's rhythm picked up, moving inside him, "Fuck, Jackson, yes!"

Sex with Jackson was unlike any other sex Stiles had ever had – it was like everything connected, energy and thoughts blending seamlessly. He felt connected to Jackson in ways that he had only seen glimmers of with Derek. Jackson was there for Stiles, and Stiles was there for Jackson.

"Feel good, baby?" Jackson asked, "You feel fucking amazing – so warm and wet. Fuck, baby, you have no idea how sexy you are either."

Stiles shook his head as a blush started to rise across his chest and face.

* * *

"And it's really been helpful," Derek said, arms still crossed against his torso as he explained what the last two months of his treatment had involved, "I didn't see the pain I was causing before, but I'm starting to understand better here. I just hope everyone can forgive me, though I know I don't exactly deserve it. I was selfish–"

"Oh my, God," Peter said, raising a hand to clutch his temple, "Will you shut up?"

"Excuse me?" Derek said, taken aback.

" 'The pain I caused,' " Peter said, clutching his chest as he imitated Derek's voice with an insincere face of shame, " 'I just want forgiveness.' Do you have any idea how fucking pathetic you sound right now? Your family has just been ripped away from you – by some _kanima_ – and you're just sitting here with some apologetic morons, morons saying that they're sorry for things because someone else told them to no less!"

Derek felt his claws extend as red seeped into his eyes.

"There's the alpha I came to see," Peter said, smirk shifting into a full on grin.

* * *

"God damn that blush, too," Jackson said, pelvis increasing speed and right hand reaching down to grasp Stile's own shaft, matching their speeds.

"I almost lost it in the kitchen this morning, baby," Jackson said, staring down at Stiles, "I almost came across the table from your father just from watching you eat fucking cheerios at the kitchen sink. I've wanted you laid out like this since seven this morning, god damn."

Stiles felt his orgasm building as Jackson's rhythm continued to gain speed. He started to close his eyes again.

"Nuh ugh," Jackson said, hand moving away from Stiles's shaft and up to his chin, "Eyes open, always open, baby."

Stiles opened his eyes fully and watched as Jackson bent down, moving toward the scar on his shoulder left by Derek's attack.

Stiles had accepted a few weeks ago that the scar wasn't going to fade. It was still a pretty sensitive matter for Stiles, one that made him feel entirely unappealing. On the worst days, the scar was a reminder of how damaged he was.

Which is why it never failed to amaze Stiles how much Jackson _didn't_ shy away from the scar. He would gaze at it, touch it, even lick it. Like he was doing then.

* * *

"Derek, I need you to think longterm, because everything you've done recently has shown me that you keep thinking small. I need you to reach for the larger picture, what does that look like to you right now?" Peter asked.

"Hopefully less of you," Derek said, glaring back at the beta.

"Witty," Peter said, chuckling dryly, "But I'm serious right now. Where do you go once this program is over – where does our family, our pack, go, Derek?"

"I don't understand what you're asking," Derek said, brow furrowing in confusion.

"Think Derek," Peter said, rolling his eyes, "Talia won't be the Hale family alpha forever, and you're already an alpha. You should be preparing to take her place in our family's lineage. And more importantly, you should be securing the continuation of that lineage beyond you."

Derek raised an eyebrow at his uncle.

* * *

"I'm half hard every time I just fucking look at you, Stiles," Jackson said, pulling back, "You have no idea how fucking embarrassing it is that most days I feel like I'm thirteen again."

Stiles reached a hand up to grasp the back of Jackson's neck, pulling the other man down to him. He licked into Jackson's mouth as his orgasm released.

"Fuck, Jackson," Stiles said, pulling back but bumping their foreheads together, "You can't just say things like that. I don't know what to do with that kind of information. You put me on overload every time. Jesus."

Jackson rolled his eyes but chuckled, pressing a kiss against Stiles's mouth before lifting up and continuing his rhythm.

* * *

"So you're saying–" Derek said.

"Where Stiles goes, Scott goes," Peter said, nodding, "And while I'm usually the first to point out that your decision making skills are shit, you did make one _fantastic_ decision the day that you married Stiles Stilinski. Not only is he exactly what this family needs to rebuild its name since the damage your mother caused in her unfortunate decision to fuck and then bear a child for a _kanima_, but he's your only guarantee to keeping Scott – a _true_ alpha in the family."

"We don't know that Scott's going to be an alpha," Derek said, shaking his head, "And–"

"Jesus, Lord, today," Peter said, shaking his head before looking back at Derek, "Look bud, I know all of this is making the wheels in your tiny brain work extra hard today, but the point is – you _need_ Stiles. Understand?"

"I don't disagree with that statement," Derek said, "But he doesn't want me–"

"Derek, what were you babbling about before I almost fell asleep earlier?" Peter asked, waving his hand about, "Something about this program teaching you the power of forgiveness?"

Derek nodded his head.

"You need to start fucking apologizing, nephew," Peter said, "Before your ex-husband _remains_ your ex-husband, and he changes both his and Scott's last name to Stilinski. Or worse, Whittemore."

"Stiles wouldn't do that," Derek said, shaking his head.

"Funny, I never thought Stiles would cheat on you either, but he clearly did. Once he got tired of you acting like a fool. Isn't that how we both ended up here?" Peter said, shaking his head, "I would hate for us to both be wrong."

* * *

"I want your cum," Stiles said, pushing the man down once Jackson had pulled out, sliding the condom off and sinking down onto the shaft.

"Fuck!" Jackson said, "Just like that, baby."

Stiles slid both hands down, one to grasp Jackson's sack, and the other to stroke the area behind the sack.

"Yeah, baby," Jackson said, thrusting up into Stiles's mouth, "I'm gonna cum, just like that, baby! Fuck!"

Stiles swallowed the head of Jackson's cock, tongue lapping the semen slipping past his lips.

* * *

"Sleep on it, nephew," Peter said, standing up, "Just remember that while you're laying down to write in your forgiveness diary, Stiles is fucking that _kanima_ every night, and Scott's calling him, 'Papa'."

Derek sat still as he watched his uncle walk out of the community room.

* * *

"What time is it?" Stiles asked, head resting against Jackson's chest, hand tracing the light dusting of hair leading downward.

"If we put pants on now, we'll only be five minutes late for our own party," Jackson said, wrapping his arm tighter around Stiles and pressing a kiss to his head.

"Don't let Scotty hear you say that," Stiles whispered conspiratorially, "It's _his_ party, remember?"

"How could I forget after the awesome lizard party that brought us together?" Jackson asked, "I will personally pay for that little boy to study event planning in college if he so chooses."

"I'm holding you to that," Stiles said, pushing against Jackson's arm, "All right, let's head down. I told our guests of honor to arrive fifteen minutes late, so we haven't missed much."

"I'm only doing this because it's for a good cause," Jackson said, lifting his arm up from Stiles.

Moving off the bed, Stiles reached down to the floor and picked up Jackson's jockstrap. He slipped the material on, quickly grabbing the shorts and button down he had laid out earlier before throwing a wink behind him to Jackson, who sat staring openly, mouth slightly agape.

* * *

Upon hearing Scott's laughter coming from the little boy's room, Stiles paused on the stairway.

"I'll go find your father," Jackson said, leaning forward for a quick kiss, "And I'll see if Danny's arrived. You have a kick ass office mate, you know that, right? Meanwhile, I'm across the hall from Lydia."

Stiles shook his head as Jackson continued to grumble heading down the stairs. He walked back up the few steps he had taken and stopped at Scott's bedroom door.

"Hey, you guys," Stiles said, a wide smile forming on his face as he took in the scene before him.

Erica Reyes sat on the floor in the middle of the room, while Kira and Scott sat on either side of her. Kira's fluffy tail and Scott's toothy grin telling Stiles that both children were showing off their supernatural traits to Erica.

"We're showing Auntie Erica how much we know, daddy!" Scott said, face beaming back at Stiles.

It hadn't taken quite as long as Stiles had originally guessed for that smile to return to Scott's face following his divorce from Derek, but that hadn't stopped him from appreciating it even more each time he saw it.

"Very cool, guys," Stiles said, nodding, "Will you two head down and help Jackson wait for our other guests?"

"Come on, Kira," Scott said, standing up, "Let's go find Papa J – you can ask him about that movie you don't believe exists. He's the one that told me about it, he said it was about a fox _and_ a hound!"

Stiles rolled his eyes while Erica's blonde curls shook with laughter, the pair watching as the two small children raced out of the room.

"Stiles, I saw the Sheriff stocking up the grill tray with _at least_ twenty steaks, you know this is all unnecessary–"

"Save it," Stiles said, shaking his head, "We're celebrating you today for several reasons, more than just your birthday, and you know it."

Erica shook her head in silence, though her smile remained.

"We want you to know that we're proud of you," Stiles said, moving to sit down next to Erica, bumping his shoulder next to hers, "And I personally wanted to say thank you again – you're an inspiration to me in several ways. You've given me both hope and friendship, two things I needed most these last few months."

"Well, thank you," Erica said, shaking her head, "And I don't mean to seem ungrateful. I just… I just don't exactly feel proud of myself. I've got all these goals for myself, and I'm nowhere near where I want to be–"

"So you haven't reached out to them, yet?" Stiles asked.

Erica shook her head again, gaze moving down to her lap.

"I'm just not sure they'll believe I've changed yet," Erica said, "I need something big, like a history of worthiness. It's still too soon since I finished the program."

"Well, I think that if you're thinking about reaching out to them," Stiles said, wrapping an arm around Erica, "You should. And I guarantee you're on their mind as much as they are on yours. If you bumped into them around town, what would you do?"

"I don't know," Erica said, shrugging her shoulders, "That's precisely why I've been shopping during the school hours only. I don't even know what I would say."

"Exactly what you told me when we first met," Stiles said, "That you're sorry, and you go from there. It won't solve everything immediately, obviously, but you're clearly a determined woman, and you _have_ a history with the program to prove that. You are worthy of love, Erica."

"Ugh," Erica said, wiping a tear from her cheek, "It's really sad when you're the best person and the worst person in my life. Stop making me fucking cry every time I see you, asshole."

"It's a Stilinski gift," Stiles said, grinning back at the blonde, "And you're an honorary Stilinski, so get used to it–"

Stiles paused at the sound of the doorbell.

"I think that's for you, we should head downstairs," Stiles said, pulling Erica up as he stood.

"For me?" Erica asked, brow furrowing in confusion, "Why would someone be at the door of your house for me?"

"Maybe I got you a birthday stripper," Stiles said, laughing as he walked out of the room.

"You would never!" Erica said, following Stiles down the stairs, "Wait… Would you?"

* * *

Stiles grinned back at Jackson as the other man rested against the wall opposite the stairway, arm open and waiting for Stiles to sidle up next to him. He turned to watch as Erica moved to open the front door, heartbeat starting to race. This would either be the best idea ever, or the worst one he had ever had.

Stiles was hoping for the former.

"Boyd?" Erica asked, body tense as the blonde stood in front of the open door.

"Hi," Stiles heard more than saw Vernon Boyd offer, "We uh… We were told that there was a party here today at this address that we might be interested in."

Erica remained silent as she stared back at Boyd.

Stiles would have a better grasp on how she was reacting to the situation if Jackson would let him move forward a little bit, but the other man had been adamant that they only be present in the background as hosts. Something about being there to cleanup spilled milk if it all went to Hell, but being far away enough that it still remained private for Erica and her family.

Stiles understood, as much as it pained him right now to not know immediately based on a facial reaction.

"So, I asked Braeden if she felt like some birthday cake," Boyd continued, "Which was kind of silly, because she's a kid. In her own words, 'I'm always ready for birthday cake.' Do you want to say hi, Braeden?"

Stiles spotted a tear roll down the side of Erica's cheek as a smaller female voice offered a shy hello from beyond the door.

"You're really here," Erica finally offered, "For me? You're here to see me?"

"Yeah," Boyd said, clearing his throat, "I have been getting some pretty frequent calls from a persistent guy with the weirdest name. He's the one that gave me this address. He said you might have some things to say to us. Like an apology. And maybe more."

"Definitely more," Erica said, nodding her head, suddenly stepping back away from the door, "Uh… Come in."

"Let's go," Stiles mouthed to Jackson, pulling the other man toward the backyard where Kira and Scott were playing with the Sheriff and the other guests.

* * *

Gaze turning away from the two small children playing on the slide and swing set combo that he and Stiles had put together in the backyard last month, Jackson looked down at the pile of steaks sitting on a platter next to the grill, shaking his head slightly.

"You have enough time to cook all of those, Sheriff?" Jackson asked.

"I have as long as Stiles is busy not noticing how many steaks I'm cooking," the Sheriff said, shrugging his shoulders and turning his head toward Stiles talking to Danny next to the playground area, "Speaking of which, it would be a great help to me if you were distracting him so he doesn't notice all my steaks."

"I'm on it, sir," Jackson said, chuckling, "Anything for you, though I think you're safe. Without supernatural vision, it's a little dark out here to see the outline of steaks."

"I like you," the Sheriff said, using his tongs to indicate Jackson and then moving them toward Stiles, "Now get."

* * *

Stiles felt two arms wrap around his torso and pull him back onto a familiar muscled chest.

"You're not trying to steal my man, are you, Danny?" Jackson asked.

"Never again," Danny said, offering a large smile to the pair, "We ended that in high school about the time Derek shoved my face into a locker for smiling at Stiles."

Stiles winced internally inside, not doubting the truth behind Danny's words, but he laughed along with Danny and Jackson.

"I'm going to go see if the Sheriff needs help," Danny said, stepping away, "Never hurts to get brownie points with the boss."

"Looks like Scott's birthday barbecue for Erica is a success," Jackson resting his chin on Stile's shoulder.

"Awesome," Stiles said, nodding his head at Erica and Boyd exiting the house onto the backyard's deck.

Braeden had a hand clasped in Erica's, and Erica looked happier than Stiles had ever seen her before. Stiles was sure that everything wasn't perfect for the family right now, but they had taken steps in moving forward, and that was something to celebrate.

"While I've got you here alone," Jackson said, moving his arms to twist Stiles around to face Jackson, "I have something I would like to ask you."

"All right," Stiles said, offering a smile.

Stiles felt like his smile immediately froze when Jackson got down on one knee.

"I know it's only been a couple of months since we officially began seeing each other," Jackson said, "But everything was such a mess – it all seems like it was in some sort of haze. It's hard to remember over all the other emotions."

Stiles's stomach churned as he waited for Jackson's question. He definitely could not handle a proposal right now – he'd just survived his first marriage, and he wasn't even sure he wanted another. Not yet at least, not so soon.

"So, I wanted to ask you this when things were calmer and going our way," Jackson said.

Stiles felt like every supernatural guest in the backyard had to be able to hear his heartbeat. This was awful. He loved Jackson, but he couldn't commit like this right then, maybe not ever–

"Stiles Stilinski, will you be my boyfriend?" Jackson asked, face ernest.

"What?" Stiles asked, staring down in disbelief at Jackson.

"Will you be my boyfriend?" Jackson asked, "I want to know when there's not a terrible situation – or Scotty – pushing us together. I don't just want to be a comforting shoulder or protector to you. Without all that, do you still want a real relationship with me?"

"Yes!" Stiles said, nodding, swiping Jackson's head with his hand, "Yes, you dork. Get up!"

Relief coursed throughout Stiles's body. He had been expecting a proposal much more terrifying than the stupid but sweet one offered.

Jackson pulled Stiles into a kiss, hand wrapped gently around the back of Stiles's neck.

Jackson could be such a goof. He had almost caused Stiles a heart attack just to confirm that they were still dating only an hour after Stiles had been on his knees swallowing the man down. Of course they were still dating, Jackson was one of the reasons Stiles actually felt like getting up most days. Both his father and Scott loved the man, and everything Jackson had said previously about Stiles turning him on by really menial tasks was true in reverse. Jackson made Stiles feel like a teenager again, too.

More than that, Stiles felt needed and wanted again – fully supported in every area of his life in a way unlike ever before. It was intoxicating, and Stiles wasn't about to give that up unless he was forced to. Not when he could continue waking up to stretched Reptar sleeping pants and that goofy half smile every morning, Jackson's usually perfect hair sticking out in all directions. The thought alone made Stiles smile like a loon–

Oh. Stiles _loved_ Jackson.

Stiles had openly admitted to loving things _about_ Jackson before, and he had even said that he loved Jackson for certain things in his head, but he had never really said it out loud. Not with the meaning that Stiles was only just beginning to realize.

"I love you, Jackson," Stiles said, pulling back from the kiss and clutching onto Jackson's arms.

"I love you, too, _boyfriend_," Jackson said, offering a wide grin back.

Stiles rolled his eyes as he pulled Jackson in for another kiss.

* * *

Isaac couldn't help but grin as a small boy with gleaming claws and furry cheeks bumped into his legs, followed by a startled expression thrown his way.

A few months back, Isaac had apologized to his nephew for… Well for a lot. But the little boy had seemed unaware of his uncle's own faults.

It was a relief to Isaac at the time, but he still felt guilt for the role he played in how things occurred. Not only had he not been there to protect Stiles from Derek's attack, Isaac had a suspicion that had he been more supportive of Derek in the first place, they might not have even had an attack.

"Hey Scotty," Isaac said, crouching down to meet the boy's gaze.

"Sorry, Uncle Isaac," Scott said, now looking around Isaac, claws and facial hair retracting, "I was chasing Kira – have you seen her?"

"Nope," Isaac said, shaking his head, hand reaching out grasp the little boy's shoulder, "But I was looking for you."

"What for?" Scott asked, dark eyebrow raising in suspicion.

"Well," Isaac said, grinning back at Scott, "I just wanted to say thank you for all the protection you've been providing me these last few months. It's really meant a lot to me."

"Oh!" Scott said, dark face splitting into a bright one.

"Yeah," Isaac said, nodding, "And I wanted to check in with you to see how everything is going with your daddy. I know you still keep an eye on him, even if I'm your main responsibility now."

"I think he's really happy," Scott whispered, leaning forward with a large grin on his face, "He only smells sad a little bit some days, not all the time anymore. I think Papa J fixed the bad hurt."

"That's awesome," Isaac said, "And how is Papa J? Things are good between the two of you, you like him still?"

"Yeah," Scott said, nodding frantically, "He's the best! He's trying to learn more about wolves, too, so I've been teaching him. Since he shared so much about lizards with me."

"Very cool," Isaac said, chuckling.

Isaac had a suspicion that Jackson's curiosity about werewolves was more likely an encouragement for Scott to learn more, too. Isaac had noticed that while Scott's left shoe sported its usual array of lizard stickers, the right one had a few wolves intermingled with the lizard ones. It was progress.

Isaac's gaze shifted toward Stiles swatting Jackson's head in the back corner of the yard, frantically pulling Jackson up from the ground and locking onto the other man's lips.

"Well," Isaac said, turning back toward Scott, "I think it's really great how happy you and your daddy are with Papa J right now, but I also wanted to talk about us. You and me."

"Okay," Scott said, grin still present.

"You know I love Papa J, too," Isaac said, nodding toward Stiles and Jackson, "And I couldn't be happier that he's part of our family, but I wanted you to also know that no matter what happens between him and your daddy, or your daddy and your papa, I will always be here for you."

"Yeah, I know!" Scott said, nodding, "You live here, Uncle Isaac!"

"No, Scotty," Isaac said, shaking his head, "That's not what I mean. I will always be near you, but I mean…"

Isaac huffed as he started to change gears in his mind, thinking of a way to express himself to Scott so that the little boy could understand.

"If _you_ ever had a bad hurt," Isaac said, tapping a finger on Scott's chest, "I will always be around for you to help fix it. No matter where your daddy, your papa, your grandpa, or Papa J are, or what they're going through, you can always come to me for help. Understand?"

Scott's brow furrowed slightly in confusion, but the little boy seemed happy enough as he nodded.

"You and your daddy are _my_ family, Scotty," Isaac said, clasping his hand with Scott's, "And no matter what the rest of our family looks like, or how it changes, we fit together. I belong to you, and you belong to me. Always."

Scott beamed back at Isaac as the little boy rushed forward to pull Isaac into a tight hug.

"I love you, too, bud," Isaac said, patting Scott's back, "I love you, too. What do you say we go get a hot dog already?"

"You're funny, Uncle Isaac," Scott said, pulling away and clasping his hand around Isaac's again, dragging Isaac toward John.

* * *

Derek stared silently at the wall opposite his bed. He hadn't been able to do much more than that since his uncle had left the center.

As much as he hated to admit it, some of his uncle's words had resonated within him.

Stiles _did_ belong with Derek, and so did Scott. They were both his, and they were both meant to be Hales. Derek had known that in his bones since the day he noticed Parrish paying too much attention to Stiles in their high school chemistry lab class.

And Derek had started to see where some of his mistakes had been, but people made mistakes. Besides, Derek wasn't entirely at fault there, Peter was right that Stiles had played a helping hand of his own. Running around with that _kanima_ had been some sort of show to get Derek's attention, which it did.

Derek regretted the force he had used in following up on that matter, but the other people at the center had been teaching him about the power of forgiveness. All he needed to do was to get Stiles to forgive him, everything else would fall in line after that.

Derek's face shifted into a dark grin as red seeped into his eyes for the second time that night.

That was exactly what he needed: Stiles's forgiveness. He would go through the rest of the program like a good boy, just the way that Stiles had asked him to, but this time he would do it with a new goal in mind.

Before he had only been able to dream what his future might look like, but Peter had drawn the picture for him tonight. And it was within reach.

Especially now that he had a half-brother eager to help him heal in any way possible. He had a direct line inside Stiles's house, which could only help him get rid of Jackson Whittemore that much more quickly.

Derek released a breath as he laid down onto the bed, back relaxing against the soft cushion of the mattress.

Stiles was a poison in his heart, and there was simply no life without him. Derek _would_ get him back. He would get all of them back.

The Hale family was not finished. It had only just begun.


End file.
